#but didn’t pay anything close to a living wage

[averagemrfox]

Corporate white collar jobs are a fucking joke man

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Heyoo can I request modern au aegon ii x reader with prompt 19 "you're my favorite person" where aegon is the golden retriever vibe in the relationship and reader is the black cat vibe and he gets jealous when he sees her connecting with Daeron but she reassures him with prompt 19 (if you're up for it, you can add smut but no biggie!)

Thank you!

I took another turn with Daeron, but kept the black cat/golden retriever dynamic

Warnings: inappropriate flirting (from Daeron)

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

‘’I need to start looking for an apartment,’’ Aegon grumbled as he came back to his bedroom, frustrated by the crowded house.

Everyone was back home for the summer, much to Aegon’s annoyance. Aemond and Helaena were back from college, and Daeron from boarding school. Despite the house's size, it felt cramped and easy to invade someone's space.

He settled into bed and leaned in to kiss you, but you pushed his shoulder. His lips formed a pout, silently begging for a kiss. You sighed and gave in, pecking him sweetly. 

‘’You said that when it was winter break…and spring break. Yet, you’re still here,’’ you reminded him, taking a strawberry from the bowl he just brought. 

Moving out and getting his own place sounded nice, but Aegon was too comfortable at home. There were no bills to pay, no cleaning to do, and no cooking required—mainly because he didn't know how to cook anything other than plain pasta or toast. Moving out would mean living alone. His parents might be too in his business sometimes, but it was better than solitude.

‘’Because when I asked you to move in with me you said ‘no’,’’ Aegon countered, settling back against his pillows.

You sighed, not feeling like having this conversation again. Your family wasn’t poor, but you and Aegon were not from the same social class. He was very privileged compared to you. His dad pulled strings to get him a full scholarship and got him a paid internship while you were working at the bookstore part-time at minimum wage. 

‘’Where’s the melted chocolate to dip them in?’’ you asked, your eyes searching for the bowl.

Aegon groaned. ‘’Shit. I forgot it on the counter…’’

‘’I’ll go get it,’’ you said, standing up and heading towards the door.

You walked down the hallways and downstairs to the kitchen when you found the bowl of melted chocolate exactly where Aegon had left it. You grabbed it and saw it was not melt-y enough so you put it back in the microwave. While you were waiting, Daeron came through the sliding doors, shirtless and hair wet from being in the pool. 

‘’Hey there,’’ he said, grinning. ‘’I didn’t know you were here.’’ Daeron leaned against the counter, appreciating your choice of clothing for the day. ‘’What are you doing?’’

‘’Reheating the chocolate,’’ you replied, glancing at him and then back at the microwave. ‘’Aegon and I are watching movies.’’ 

Daeron watched as you moved, his inappropriate gaze un-noticed by you. ‘’It’s nice out, you should come swim.’’ 

You glanced outside, seeing the sun shining bright. ‘’It’s too hot. Maybe later.’’ 

‘’Hot is good.’’ Daeron locked eyes with you, but you looked away, praying the microwave would beep soon. 

Once it did, you quickly grabbed the bowl and stirred the chocolate, not caring that it was hot. ‘’I have to get back to Aegon.’’ 

As if he had sensed what was going on, Aegon stepped into the kitchen. ‘’What’s taking you so long, babe?’’ he asked, his voice tense when he saw Daeron ogling you.

You looked over to Aegon, chocolate in hand. ‘’Had to melt the chocolate again,’’ you explained. ‘’I was heading back now.’’ 

You led the way to the stairs, wanting to get out of the kitchen and away from Daeron’s attempt at flirting. You were dating his brother, how did he think this was okay? 

Back in the bedroom, Aegon sat down heavily on the bed after closing the door. ‘’What the fuck was that? I can't believe him…’’ 

‘’It’s fine, Aegon. He was just—’’ 

‘’It’s not fine. The little shit was staring at your tits through your shirt! These tits are mine.’’

You rolled your eyes. ‘’He’s seventeen. You did the same when you were his age,’’ you said, thankful Aegon didn’t hear what Daeron had said. He would be so mad. 

‘’I don’t want his perverted eyes to look at my girlfriend.’’ Aegon pulled you down on his lap, almost making you drop the chocolate. 

With your free hand, you cupped his jaw, looking at him closely. ‘’I don’t care who looks at me. I love you.’’ You kissed him, slow and deep until he calmed down from his jealous fit. ‘’You’re my favorite person,’’ you said, leaning your forehead against his. 

Your words made Aegon smile, his arms wrapping around you. ‘’You’re mine too.’’

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard@domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios@lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron   @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08  @mymultiveres  @secretsthathauntus  @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9

All and more taglist:  @kenqki@hawkegfs@gillybear17@black-rose-29@fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade   @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3   @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs  @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis  @katherinejess  @rafesgirlstuff   @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity  @Anouk @nani-2305 @books0fever @papichulo120627 @qardasngan @ghostlyvoidydragon @M0rgans1nterlud3

[charmercharm3r]

Make Love, Not Porn

Play Time!

HHJ

Masterlist, Series Masterlist

18+ content — minors, do not interact.

wc: 3.8k

Synopsis: You crave a life of normalcy, he craves you. And he'd do anything to keep you, even if you're for the world to see.

warnings: barista!hyunjin x cam girl!reader, smut, explicit sexual content, masturbation (m, f), he's a little obsessed, easing into the smuttier smut if that's even a thing.

Live : Play Time!

Next Scheduled Broadcast : Heat Signature

☆ﾟ

Rule number one; everybody is temporary.

There is no love in this industry, no trust, no friends, only coworkers that all want the same thing. Sometimes you work with them more than once, other times– most times, it’s a one-and-done deal.

They never want to stay anyways, you learned that lesson the hard way. It’s why you set up such a tough wall to break through, there’s no point in befriending anyone on your side of the pond.

It’s scary, really, how quickly you can be moaning someone’s name, kissing them like you need them to breathe, touching and feeling them as intimately as someone who truly was in love. Then as soon as the livestream ends, you can’t remember what their lips feel like and everything smells like latex and sweat. You offer them some water, snacks, a shower. They usually decline. Minutes later, your front door is shutting and you’re alone once again.

No one ever intends on getting into porn, you don’t even remember the details on how you ended up here. Your follower count had risen overnight and before you knew it, that one video had gotten you more money in a week than a month’s worth of minimum wage ever did. The humiliation was nonexistent considering you hadn’t even posted yourself naked that first time, if anything you were excited to post again. Who knew a video of you just sitting in a chair, playing with yourself under your skirt with your knees pressed closed would take off so rapidly. That thirty second video changed your life.

– fuck, who is this?? are they new??

– thats so hot. face reveal?

– show us your tits

– god i wanna fuck u so bad

– suck my dick pls

Those comments didn’t bother you, it was a little flattering if you were being honest with yourself. People wanted you, they don’t even know your real name, have never seen your face or what you look like in the sunlight. They don’t know you and yet, you’re everything to them, so much so that they pay you for your time, and body. They fill your wallet just for you to read their comment out loud, attention whores for you. And you love it. For some reason, their praise is much more fulfilling than anyone you've guested on your livestreams.

Recently, though, you’ve stopped bringing people on, not much to your viewer’s disapproval. There was more interaction and less vulgarity, like they wanted you to actually speak to them rather than just stuff your pussy with whatever new dildo you’d been gifted in your PO box.

You hadn’t planned on having such a personal stream today, you honestly just wanted the relief and thought your viewers would have a good time. But for some reason, the comments were less about getting you to take your clothes off and more about why your voice was shaking.

“It’s okay, I’m okay. Really!” Even you could hear the subtle octave change. “If you wanted me to cry, you could’ve just said please. You know I’ll do anything for you.” 

Perhaps the forced sultriness of your voice worked its charm, the comments quickly switched back to their normal obscenities once you started to unbutton your top. Truthfully, you preferred when they asked you to get naked, it was a lot easier to do than to admit what it was you were really lacking. Honest companionship is the rarest thing.

Rule number two: no identifying features.

Even if you weren’t ashamed, your job is still taboo. No one and everyone knew what it was you did. Your best friend helped you pick lingerie and background mood lighting, your parents thought you were an office worker. Strangers have seen your most private parts, you only allow your grandma to give you a kiss on the cheek during Christmas. Safe to say your occupation was strictly need-to-know.

You’re glad you started live streaming before deciding to get any tattoos, running the risk of someone stopping you in the middle of the street was the most terrifying thing you could imagine happening. Naturally, you avoided getting anything at all once your streams started to really take off.

There was nothing you wore to accessorize unless a patron paid for it in advance, that was always done a week before streams and the contact with the patron was never more than a simple google form and an email from your business account to confirm. Other than that, you were a blank canvas, just a body with a voice that left more to the imagination than you would think. If your viewers were happy, you were happy.

“What do you think of my new nail color? A special someone picked it out for me,” you held out your hands to display the pretty shine, twiddling your fingers. The comments went crazy, “no, no, not anyone like that, c’mon! You know you’re my number one. But I think you should all give lovely user callingherdaddy a thank you for picking it out. Thank you, sir.”

You took the polish off the next morning.

Rule number three: be consistent.

Nothing kills a steady income more than ghosting the ones that put the money in your pocket. You stuck to a strict schedule of three streams every week and frequent posts on your socials. The stuff you posted on your social media wasn’t even related to your work on camming, but it doesn’t hurt when they leave a couple nice comments. 

With a schedule and job like yours, you need a little bit of normalcy. Self employed, you don’t have a real routine when you aren’t streaming. It was starting to make you feel lazy, a bit lethargic, and overall unmotivated.

It wasn’t until recently did you decide to start doing normal people things, like waking up at 7 a.m., doing a mini work out, grocery shopping in the morning, even getting yourself a coffee from the shop near your house as a treat. Doing this was nice, you felt good, your head was clearer. Hell, you even got excited when it came time to do your cams because you felt so full of energy.

You had only been to the coffee shop once or twice before, but to get yourself to keep the routine, you told yourself you’d go every day for the next two weeks. Afterall, it only takes 21 days to form a habit.

It was packed, as usual for a morning weekday. There were only about six baristas working, all scurrying about the bar to get through the morning rush. You liked watching them, mindlessly completing drinks in such a way that made you a little jealous. Most of them seemed your age, obviously you knew that they couldn’t have all had perfect lives, but at least this part of their day was something they could openly complain about.

Were you really jealous? Of normal people? You had to be insane.

Shaking your head, you walked further into the shop and waited in line. You thought nothing of it, placing your order, “iced chai with three blonde shots, please,” and handed the barista the card, “thank you.”

You barely looked up at him, only when he held onto your card a little longer as you tried to take it back did you make eye contact. A little awkward, the barista was staring at you with wide eyes. He was handsome, too handsome to be working behind the counter. Long black hair framed his face nicely, pretty plump lips, and an endearing little mole under his eye that made his siren stare only slightly less intimidating. Yeah, handsome.

He didn’t look away even after he let you take your card back.

“S– sorry. You look like–”

“It’s okay. Thanks again.” You hurried away as fast as you could. He couldn’t have known who you were, right? Not a chance, you have never shown your face. You were wearing too many clothes for any particular body part to be recognizable. It’s just a coincidence.

Either way, the minor interaction with the barista scared you into hiding again, forgetting going out for anything else you had planned and deciding to hole away at home.

You had a livestream to do later anyways, focus on that. There were a few hours left for you to kill before turning on the camera, now would be as good a time as any to set up.

It wasn’t much that you did, mostly just thinking of what it was you thought viewers would like to see for the day. An hour before the scheduled stream, you set up a waiting room on the website that hinted at what the day’s theme would be. Today you thought you’d go a little easy on the eyes; “live soon, hardcandysweetheart: play time! <3”

A typical stream would start off soft, greeting viewers like any other meeting. You’d ask how their day was, if there was anything in particular they wanted to do or talk about, some answered genuinely while others urged you to strip. You liked the ones that asked you how your day was, too, and enjoyed sharing your thoughts with them. Though, it was no secret what everyone was here for, even if sometimes– just sometimes, you liked what came before taking off your clothes more than anything.

“I have a few things in mind for play time today, I’d like to hear what you guys think. Would you prefer this,” in your hand, you held up your favorite vibrator, big and baby pink. “Or this?” in the other, a new grinder that resembled the shape of a tentacle with the sucker-side up.

Comment section didn’t slow down as soon as you showed the second toy. “I thought you might like this one. I got it just for you! I’m excited to try it out with you.”

– im so fucking hard

– i wanna see ur pussy

– thats so nice, ur sweet

“Slow down! Haha, we’re gonna take our time,” you laughed away the weird feeling in your chest as you read the fleeing comments. “You’re so impatient today, lovely. Did you have a hard day? I know I did,” you slowly peeled down the blouse you wore, letting it hang off your shoulders to expose your bare shoulders. It seemed redundant to wear a bra, but you kept the shirt covering your breasts for dramatic effect, hard nipples peaking through.

“I just wanna take it a little more… gentler, if that’s alright.” The camera was angled to cut off at your neck to avoid showing your face, but you bit your lip anyways as you held up the grinder. “It’s a little out of my comfort zone, honestly. I’ve never told you about this fantasy before.” You ran your finger down the rubber center, feeling the many little suction cups bend.

You giggled as you came to the swirled tip of the tentacle, playing with the way it curled and how pliable it was. “When I ordered this, they let me choose the color. I think pink suits me, don’t you? But I also thought, maybe blue? Or black… but then it would be too hard for you to see, right?”

As you spoke, you laid the grinder between your legs but not quite touching it. With two fingers, you stroked it the same way you would your own pussy. Your other free hand was doing just that right behind the toy and beneath the length of your shirt, feeling your wetness building up with your hand down your panties. “Oh my, just talking to you– my underwear is soaked!” The giggle that left your lips was genuine, you didn’t expect to work yourself up so quickly.

You stole your fingers from your cunt and showed it to the camera, spreading them to let your viewers see the slick coating shine in the soft lighting. “Heh, told ya I was excited. You make me like this.”

When you started to really get going it was hard to pay attention to the comments, you tended to get a little lost until you finally came. Like now, you brought the toy closer to your core, lightly lifting yourself to sit on it. As soon as you did, you let out a whimper.

Hyunjin had never felt so embarrassed in his life. He doesn’t even know why, he couldn’t have been sure of anything.

Except he was. He was 100% sure, plus another 10% for good measure. He hadn’t even known about the site for long, you were just his favorite. He’d found hardcandysweetheart and never bothered to look anywhere else.

You were just another customer at first, a pretty one that caught his attention. He noticed you in line and had every intention of flirting and possibly asking for you to sign up for the rewards program with them just so he could use that as an excuse to get your number. Then you spoke.

All you fucking did was speak. “Please,” and “thank you,” and Hyunjin fucking crumbled.

Jesus, he must have looked like an idiot. He knows he did, but he was star struck. Fanboying, red in the face with embarrassment, about to fold at the knees, and hard as a fucking rock all at the same time. He had to excuse himself to the restroom as soon as you left just to get his boner to go away.

If it really was you– and he hoped to god it wasn’t– he’ll never forget such a pretty face.

Which is why he turned on notifications for your stream. He knew your schedule by heart but he needed to be sure that it was your voice he heard. As soon as he got home from his shift, clothes came off and he was sat in bed with his laptop nearby, just waiting for the ping notification from you.

God, it was you. As soon as he heard you through his headphones, it confirmed what he already knew.

What a kind voice, supple, soft, he could listen to you for hours– he has listened to you for hours. Sometimes he wished you could do live streams of just you talking, you never even had to take your clothes off. Now that he knew what you looked like, Hyunjin’s heartbeat faster than it ever did when you made conversation.

It was the way you did, as though you were speaking to him and only him. The image he created of you in his head looked like it was thought up by a child in comparison to seeing you in real life. He could put a face to the voice now, he wasn’t even thinking about your body. Just your voice.

“You make me like this,” you said in almost a whisper, tone cracking just a little the more you sat on the toy.

Hyunjin couldn’t help but palm at himself, not entirely stroking but moving at the same pace. This was a team effort, in his mind. You made him crazy, as he did to you. That was his fantasy. You always spoke with so much love in your voice, as though you truly cared for him and it got him harder than any other kind of porn ever could.

Was that really all it took? Was he that pathetic? Someone who didn’t even know who he was, talking to an ocean of people that all saw the same thing he did, and suddenly it’s the only thing that can make him cum.

He can’t even complain now, he’s seen you. That’s enough spank bank to last him a lifetime if you ever suddenly decided to stop camming. Shit– he hopes he didn’t just manifest that into existence.

The white button up top draped in front of your cunt to hide away from view. That’s alright, you said you were taking it slow today. Your hips slowly pushed forward and back, hands gripping tightly at the armrests of your uncomfortable looking desk chair. Hyunjin thought it was kind of cute how you would still cam in the same seat as you did when he found your first video. 

His laptop on his abdomen concealed the view of his cock leaking, but the way you were sat on screen, he could envision it was him you were sitting on instead. That’s exactly what he imagined as you rocked faster into the toy, lifting your shirt and balling it in your fist to show that your wetness had spread to the front of your panties. Hyunjin didn’t even mind that the bold pink tentacle blocking a bit of the view, you were getting so into it that he hardly noticed anymore.

Hyunjin fumbled to find his dick, slowly beginning to squeeze the head as you turned to shorter and quicker ruts towards the front of the toy where the tentacle curled up. You moaned loudly, making him do so as well in return. “Fuck, I ruined this pair, didn’t I?”

Your cute laugh had Hyunjin breaking out into a smirk, “that’s okay,” he whispered to no one but himself.

“I should take it off but,” you rolled your hips again with a whine, “I kinda want you to work for it.”

The tips in the corner of the page were pinging like crazy as soon as you said that. He himself tapped the button rapidly and paid no mind to how his account balance shot down.

“C’mon now, don’t be shy. It’s just one little word that I wanna hear. I’ll say it first, if that makes you feel better.” The speed of your hips picked up a little, in turn Hyunjin let his fist slowly work up and down, no faster than you, of course.

“Please. Please, is the word I’m looking for, lovely. Say it, just once.”

Fuck, he couldn’t help speeding up just a little. He loved the way you said it, even more the way you commanded him to say it as well. “Please,” the whimper came out breathy and uneven as the precum lubricated his cock more.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Hyunjin shook his head, no. 

“No, it wasn’t. Look what happens when you ask nicely,” you stood from your seat just to pull off the flimsy fabric, sitting fully back down on the toy and holding up the soaked pair with another chuckle. “You get nice things.”

Hyunjin could hear how wet you really were now, every lewd sound that came from you rubbing yourself back and forth on the grinder. You still didn’t let him– them– see you fully. He wasn’t even sure if you’d expose yourself at all this stream. Still, his fist picked up speed as you did, taking in every grunt you let out when you’d hit a particularly good spot. Hyunjin kept his eyes on you the whole time, memorizing the way you moved, what angle made you tick.

“C’mon lovely, I know you can do better than that.”

You were referring to the tip counter, but Hyunjin took it as he can do better than that. His other hand reached around the laptop, down to cup his balls as he worked his cock faster, occasionally running his fingers over the head for a break in stimulation. Somehow he managed to stop touching himself for a split second to rapid fire extra tips when they slowed down.

“Oh, someone wants a little extra attention today. What do I call you, lovely?” Hyunjin wasn’t sure if you were speaking to him, though he hoped and typed a nickname anyways. “Baby? That’s cute. Thank you, baby, you’re so sweet.”

His hand instantly returned to his dick, not caring about the speed anymore, instead wanting to cum to the sound of your voice. He quickly tapped the tip button a few more times and you giggled, “baby, you’re spoiling me. Here, since you’re being so nice,” you lifted the hem of your shirt to put your bare cunt on display, seemingly tucking the end of it into your mouth.

Hyunjin could see it so clearly, your pretty lips drooling onto the fabric, biting it to contain the moans that wanted to slip past. Fuck, he was going insane, wet, slick noises from his animalistic fisting on his cock almost surpassing the volume of your voice in his headphones. 

He just watched now, listened intently to how good you were making yourself feel and it made his body light a fire. You were clearly getting closer as well, forgetting the dirty talk and humping away at the toy with little to no regard for who was watching. Hyunjin loved this side of you the most, when you couldn’t think of anything other than the impending pleasure. He could imagine your eyes rolling back, the furrow in your brow and beads of sweat dripping down your temples as you came nearer to falling over the edge. Your hands moved to grip the edge of the seat, aiding in pushing your body forward and back harder against the grinder and Hyunjin was jerking himself with a hotter fervor. Your muffled cries echoed in his head– he was making you feel like this, he was the one you were using to please yourself, he was the one you thought of as you came all over his cock.

Hyunjin suddenly held his breath and let his release take over his body, squeezing and pumping the tip of his cock as he spurt his seed all over his stomach and back of his computer. By the time he’d come to, opened his eyes, and regained his breath, you were slumped back in your chair and panting heavily. He missed your grand finale, but that was okay with him, you came at the same time. Even in post nut clarity, he wanted to hear your voice. More than that, he wanted to hold you, run his fingers through your hair, kiss you until you were breathless all over again.

Hyunjin’s shaky hand found the tip button again and tapped.

“Thank you, baby.” He smiled.

You groaned and found the strength to steal the toy from your aching cunt, holding it up for the camera to see it glistening with your essence. Laughing, “this was fun, wasn’t it? I enjoyed myself, I might have to buy more of these.” You tossed it onto the desk and suddenly seemed shy, tugging your shirt as far down as you could without exposing more skin. “Until next time, lovely. I’ll miss you.” You waved your dainty fingers at the camera, doing your signature sign off, and the screen went black.

Hyunjin’s head fell back into his pillows, staring at the ceiling trying to understand all the emotions he just rushed through. 

He couldn’t compute them even if he tried. All he knew was that he was excited to go to work tomorrow morning, hoping that whatever god heard his plea, begging that you’ll come in.

When he went to shut his laptop, his fingers smeared the warm mess that was slowly dripping. “Fuck— ew,” and he hurried to clean up, alone once again.

☆ﾟ

tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @hamburgers101 @skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @dazzlingligth @alexis-reads-fics @linaliskz @0002linoskitten @chillichillicrabcrab23 @zerefdragn33l @straycrescent @binnies-donuts @soldierstangirl-blog @bakedlilgoonie @levanterlily @shelbyyy44 @yeetmehome @in2heartz @astroodledream @the-sweetest-rose @goblinracha @lilbugs-things @viviennenstan @staurdvst @alex--awesome--22 @imzenning @jeyelleohe @iadorethemskz @skyvastbunny @mamabymychem @katsukis1wife @woozarts @noellllslut

[r0tting-rat]

DCA PROMPTOBER 2024

Attention! This slasher!au belong to the lovely @wyervan, who gave me the okay to write a little drabble about their murderous guys bc I'm simply obsessed with them. I hope I did them justice :>

Day 27 - Stalker

Pairing: Slasher!Sun and Moon x/& GN reader Warning: Blood, violence and gore, choking, drug mention Words: 3800+ Summary: It's Halloween and someone stops by to pay you a visit <3

Whoever said that serial killers are the real monsters of this world has probably never worked a minimum wage job at a diner during Halloween. Teenagers were a fucking pain, there was nothing to say about it. Between stupid pranks and annoying messes, they seemed to try and find every possible way to make your living life hell, like you were some kind of lifeless mannequin and not a waiter.

You often had the closing shift during the weekends, along with a coworker of yours, who was as insufferable and as bothersome as some of the teenagers who’d come in during the day. Jake was a douche, there wasn’t much to say; he was immature and lazy, multiple times he had found ways to shove his workload on you and other people, his cigarette breaks lasted longer than your lunch and he would flirt with every woman under 20 that would cross the threshold of the diner. You and he often worked the closing shift together, which meant you cleaned the kitchen and the tables as Jake called his girlfriend on his flip phone while mindlessly sweeping the floor, only managing to move dust bunnies and used napkins from one place to the other.

You heard his voice loud and clear from the kitchen, complaining about some guy who owed him money, when your ears suddenly picked up something you regretted hearing.

-Stop worrying about it, there’s no risk of him telling the cops, he’d get into a lot more trouble than me,- he laughed, -He’s addicted to that shit, he wouldn’t survive a week without me.-

You had heard from a coworker that Jake sold drugs to highschoolers, but you weren’t the type to believe rumors without any proof, so you had never cared much about it. Your eyes glanced up from the grill you were cleaning to see if Jake had noticed you listening in on his private conversation, but the man was too engrossed into pretending to do his job to notice you. You didn’t want to have anything to do with Jake’s deals, you wanted to keep out of his life as much as you didn’t want him to become a part of yours.

Suddenly, someone began knocking on the glass door of the bar, making it rattle loudly and echo through the small diner. You stopped and waited, until a second, louder knock startled you. Jake wasn’t going to open, was he?

You peeked out of the kitchen, looking for your coworker, but he must have disappeared somewhere in the back because you couldn’t see him anywhere in the dining area. He had left the broom behind, of course. 

Looking outside the diner and into the dark parking lot, you saw a tall man standing right in front of the door with a weird jester costume, waiting for someone to open the door for him. He was wearing red and yellow puffy striped pants, a yellow top with red ruffles, and a weird Halloween mask over his face—a white and golden smiling sun, with a crown of golden rays all around.

As soon as the man saw you he stopped slowly swaying on the spot, freezing, and his head tilted to the side in confusion. You had expected teenagers to come and bother you so late, considering it was the 31st, but a grown ass man wearing such a stupid costume? That was simply ridiculous. You tapped the sign on your side of the glass which read “CLOSED” in bold and red letters, but that seemed to not be enough for the clown.

-We don’t do trick or treating here,- you said, speaking loud enough so he could hear you from outside, -If you want candies how about knocking at the door of a house or something?-

The man’s shoulders shook with laughter, but you didn’t hear any sound coming from him, so you simply sighed and turned back towards the kitchen. You wanted to go home, drink something warm, and do a rewatch of the Scream trilogy, nothing else. Why couldn’t that asshole do the same?

The masked man slammed his hand on the glass, making you jump and turn back around, then he pointed towards the broom laying on the floor a few feet away from you. Something clicked in your head, and you stared at him with your mouth agape.

-Wait, are you here for Jake? Are you one of his friends or something?- you asked, and after a moment of hesitation, the man nodded eagerly. You gave him a better look, noticing exactly how much taller than you he was and his lean build—he didn’t fit the depiction of Jake’s clients. Most of them were highschoolers, as far as you were aware.

-Listen, I can’t let you in, but we’re almost closed, so you just wait a couple of minutes and he’s all yours,- you told the man, who gave you a grateful nod followed by a step back into the parking lot. Despite that, that guy unnerved you deeply, he was weird and creepy, and you didn’t want to have anything to do with him.

You decided you could tell Jake to go home and leave you the rest of the work—which you would have ended up doing even if he stayed there—just so you could get rid of the masked loser outside, but when you called his name, you didn’t hear any answer. You walked in the back of the diner, checking even the kitchen to make sure he wasn’t eating any of the leftover fries, but your coworker had disappeared into thin air. 

During your search you found the staff door wide open, letting in the cold night breeze, and when you tried to close it you found that the handle wasn’t working properly anymore. Every time you pushed it closed, the door would creak open once more.

-What the fuck…?-

A sudden sound made you jump out of your skin and turn around in search of the cause, finding only the silence of the dark diner answering back. You were getting uneasy, on edge, and you couldn’t stop thinking about the weirdo right outside the door. Right as you had begun to wonder if he had found a way to get in, a hand grabbed your shoulder and you screamed.

-Jesus, fuck!- yelled Jake as you flinched away from him, -What the hell is wrong with you?!-

Your heart was beating so loud you could hear it in your chest, hammering against your sternum like a drum, but when you saw your coworker standing right behind you, you sighed and relaxed.

-You scared me!- You shoved the man away, annoyed, and he reacted by looking at you like you had gotten crazy. -Go tell your stupid friend to leave, he’s creeping me out.-

-Who are you talking about?- he asked, and you rolled your eyes.

-Sun dude, with the mask and clown outfit? Doesn’t that ring a bell? He’s waiting for you outside.-

Jake’s brown furrowed in confusion, then he pushed you away to enter back into the dining area, where you had seen the masked guy. He looked outside, walking towards the glass windows that gave a clear view of the parking lot, which revealed to be completely empty. Jake turned around to glare at you like you had set your pants on fire. 

-Did you take something? Some shrooms?- he asked, and you sighed.

-No, he probably just left. That’s his van, I’m sure, it wasn’t there an hour ago.- You pointed at a white van parked not too far from the door in the parking lot. -Do you recognize it?-

Jake shook his head, still visibly confused by your behavior, and from his stance you could tell that he was also growing tense. His hands were fidgeting and his eyes were scanning the parking lot like a police car was about to pull up and arrest him any minute, but in the end he scoffed. 

-Nah. Whatever, I’m going home,- he said, walking away from the window, -I’m not in the mood for this stuff.-

-I’m serious, there was a guy there!- you replied, but the man didn’t listen, -Also, next time close the door behind you after you go out for a smoke.-

-I haven’t smoked in 3 hours,- Jake retorted, -What are you talking about now?-

-So you didn’t open the back door?- you asked after a pause, feeling a sense of chill spread in your guts, creeping up into your lungs and blocking your airway, -But it’s…?-

The door had been broken. From the outside. Someone had gotten in, and you didn’t even hear it, neither of you did. You and Jake seemed to realize the same thing at the same time, but just as you bolted towards your bag and grabbed your phone, which you had left behind the counter, Jake ran for the main door, slamming it open in a rush. 

-Wait, don’t!- you screamed, but the man didn’t listen to you and headed to his car, which was parked in a far corner of the parking lot. Before he could take more than two steps, the white van rumbled to life, pointing its headlights at him and blinding him in the process. 

-Come back inside!- you screamed, and luckily this time Jake seemed to be willing to listen to you, because as soon as he realized he was about to get run over, he threw himself back into the diner. You grabbed him by one of his wrists and dragged him with you in the kitchen, your only safe space for now. 

The kitchen wasn’t that big; the diner you worked at was just a small local business that had just enough seats for the small population of your town, therefore, there weren’t many places to hide. 

-What the fuck is happening?!- screamed Jake in a panic, but you shushed him, beginning to type the police’s number until a humming sound made you freeze on the spot, -Why did you stop?! We need to…-

-Down!- you hissed, ducking behind one of the grills and bringing Jake down with you, right as light steps echoed in the dining area which you had just left. You listened carefully, kneeling on the cold floor of the kitchen with Jake shaking beside you, one of your hands coming up to cover his mouth. 

Your ears picked on a masculine voice singing something reminding you of a lullaby, slow and gentle, melodic and raspy at the same time. The intruder was singing without a care in the world, entering the kitchen just to stop right on the threshold, lingering on the spot. You peeked your head out from the side of the fryer, trying to get a look at the man but only managing to see a pair of black boots and blue puffy pants covered in stars before your eye was caught by the hatchet he was holding in his gloved hand. Old, rusty, and clipped in many places around the edge, the weapon looked decades old, if not more. You saw the man swinging it mindlessly around, like he was playing with it, still humming that low tune with his deep voice. 

-Someone’s hiding,- he sang, mocking, -Someone’s scared!-

Struggling to keep yourself from making a sound, you hid back behind the fryer, hoping to the heavens that Jake wasn’t about to panic and rat you both out. You sent him a warning glare, but the man was too worried about stopping his hands from trembling to even look in your direction. 

-Which little mouse will have its tail chopped off today, mh?- asked the intruder, beginning to walk slowly around the kitchen, -I heard someone has been behaving badly recently. The Sun told me someone was being naughty…-

Pots and pans were knocked down from the counters, making you flinch and cover your own mouth in fear of letting a sound slip out, and with the corner of your eye, you saw Jake begin crying. 

-Isn’t that right, Jake?- the psycho laughed, beginning to move once more, -Did the Sun lie, or are you actually misbehaving?-

You grabbed one of your coworker’s hands and began to crawl away, forcing him to come along, attempting to get on the other side before you could be seen. 

-Come out, come out, Jake, we just wanna play a game with you.- The man faked disappointment, opening any cabinet big enough to contain a human and making a mess of the kitchen around him as an attempt to drive you out of hiding. A metal lid rolled all the way in front of you, stopping right in your tracks, but being too focused on trying to understand how far the intruder was, you didn’t see it, and you hit it with one of your hands, sending it against the wall with a clang.

-Shit!- you said, standing back up, -Run!-

-There you are!- screamed the intruder, immediately running after you and Jake as you scrambled up on your feet and did everything you could to get away. 

You went back into the dining area, attempting an escape through the broken back door, but just as you turned the corner you found the sun-masked man standing in your way with a metal bat in his hands. While trying to step away from him and avoid his first swing directly aimed at your head, you tripped onto Jake, falling on him and causing both of you to ruin on the ground, hitting your head against the wall in the process. Breathing heavily, you managed to back yourself into a corner, unable to see through the heavy cloud of pain blossoming in your skull as warm liquid dripped down your neck, soaking your work uniform and making you dizzy. Your every breath was painful, your throat and mouth burned dry and your heart was beating out of your chest, deafening you entirely to the screams of your coworker being slammed against the wall beside you by the man with the hatchet. You were barely conscious, enough to distinguish the sun mask kneeling in front of you to observe you better as a crunch echoed through the diner, final in the way it made Jake’s protests and cries come to an abrupt stop.

Blood began to pool on the floor next to you, dripping down the wall where the killer’s hatchet had split open his skull, and the metallic scent hit your senses like a punch in the guts. You suddenly awakened, gasping for air like a starving man, and immediately you flinched when the sun mask leaned closer to your face. You couldn’t suppress the tears pushing out of your ducts, streaming down your face in rivers, and you hiccupped when, during your struggle to push yourself back up, you slipped on the blood with your palms and found yourself face-first in it. 

The murderer with the hatchet, who was wearing a moon-themed mask and a costume matching the other maniac, let go of Jake’s body and let it slide down the wall into a sitting position right beside you, making you scream and stumble back into your corner. 

-Please don’t kill me!- you begged, out of your mind with fear, -P-Please, please, I beg you, please d-don’t kill me, I didn’t do anything w-wrong, I didn’t…-

-Oh, we know, sweetie,- cooed the sun mask, his amused voice so sickly sweet it made you want to gag, -We believe you!- 

You couldn’t understand what was happening anymore. Were you in danger? Were they going to kill you as well? Why did they kill Jake in the first place? You were going mad and couldn’t even bring yourself to think, all you wanted to do was go home and huddle yourself into a warm nest of blankets. You wanted to wake up and find that the horrifying reality you were living in was actually nothing more than a horror film-induced nightmare. 

-We believe you, really,- the sun’s voice came down to a docile whisper as one of his gloved hands brushed against your cheek, making you whine and attempt to curl away from his touch. The gloved fingers were cold—so cold. You wanted to puke. -But I’m afraid we can’t let you go away so easily after seeing what happened here.-

His thumb brushed over your parted lips, spreading a drop of blood like it was a gloss, tinting your lips of a deep crimson color, until his finger pressed on the other side of your jaw. You looked up at the man, wide-eyed, as his other huge hand also wrapped around your throat and slowly began to crush your windpipe with his strength. 

-Too bad,- commented the moon-masked man as he began to lean closer. His entire “face”, chest and arms were covered by blood and brain matter, dark and gooey, drenching his white and black top with it, -Would have loved to play a little game with you, just to pass the time, you know? Unfortunately, we still have morals.-

-Yeah,- laughed the sun, -We don’t go for innocent people usually—not unless they give us a reason to dispose of them, of course. Nothing personal, ‘kay? No hard feelings between us?-

You were choking, flailing your hands around while trying to pry his fingers off and scratching yourself in the process, and as your face began to turn red and your vision began to get spotty, your eyes ran from a masked man to the other, hoping at least one of them would have mercy on you.

-Unless,- whispered the moon to his companion, admiring the beautiful way your unconscious body lost all its strength and fell unresponsive on the ground—still far from death, as shown by the slow rise of your chest, -Unless we let this one leave to tell the tale.-

-There’s no tale, Moon,- replied Sun, sending his friend a glare while also parting his hands from your throat. In a few seconds you were probably going to regain consciousness, so he stood up and aimed his bat at your head, -We already talked about this, leaving witnesses is out of the picture. Also, do you mind doing this for me? I already got blood on my gloves, and you know how much I hate finishing them off.-

-But think better about it!- spoke Moon, leaning against the wall, knowing that Sun was not going to give you the final blow himself, -Everyone is town is already aware there’s a pair of fuckers going around killing people, but don’t you think it would make our job much easier if people really started to fear us?-

Sun let go of the bat just to stare at his companion, speechless, like he couldn’t believe the words the other man had said. 

-No, I actually think that would make our job much more difficult,- he said, and Moon scoffed, -People will begin to think we are merciful, which could not be more far from the truth.- 

-I think it would actually show everyone in this city how things work.- Moon put down his hatchet and crossed his arms over his chest, showing Sun that he was actually completely serious. -Innocents will be allowed mercy, while rulebreakers will receive the chop-chop treatment.-

Sun sighed, running one of his gloved hands through his blonde hair in exasperation. 

-First of all, don’t call murdering people “the chop-chop treatment”, that’s weird. Second, you already killed innocents before, so what’s so different now? Third, do you actually believe people will understand?- It was clear, he still didn’t trust Moon’s plan, but Sun never listened to any plan that wasn’t his own, so that didn’t count. 

-They will, if you allow them to live and warn them,- Moon nodded towards your limp body, -Also, the other times it was an accident, okay? Not everything can always go according to plan!-

You were beginning to regain consciousness, groaning on the floor and gasping for air.

-Shit, they’re awake!- Sun said, -Kill them!-

-No, we’re leaving them behind,- insisted Moon, grabbing his friend’s wrist and pulling him away from you, -Trust me just this once, it’ll work out in our favor.- 

Sun was hesitating, looking at you, slowly waking up, then at his companion. He couldn’t figure out the best course of action, so he just groaned and let himself be dragged away. 

-Alright, just this once!- he allowed, -Consider this a treat, Moon, because it won’t happen ever again!-

The duo left through the broken back door, walking into the dark parking lot and looking around for any car or passerby in sight, while you blinked your eyes open on the bloodied floor of the diner where you were mindlessly taking orders and serving customers just a few hours prior. Your whole body was in pain, your arms felt heavy and sore, while your throat felt like it had been rubbed with sandpaper both on the inside and on the outside. You finally managed to completely open your eyes and stare at the ceiling, still not believing that you were still alive. What had convinced the two killers to spare you? Which one had mellowed the other into showing mercy? You couldn’t say, there were too many things you couldn’t explain to yourself, but as you turned your head around to look at Jake’s lifeless body next to you, your eyes came to an halt on his chest, where the moon—his killer—had left a plastic bag containing a bunch of colorful pills. For a second you felt dazed, until you understood that the two clowns were leaving a clear message. They didn’t like the idea of people selling drugs to highschoolers, and that was probably the same reason why you were left alive, unscathed except for the blossoming bruises the sun’s hands had left on your neck, red and angry against your skin. They had spared you because you hadn’t hurt anyone;  that explained the words the moon guy had told Jake in the kitchen and why you were still allowed to breathe, but it didn’t excuse the viciousness behind the duo’s actions.

The blood around you was expanding, soaking your hair and work shirt as well, and for some reason your first thought was that it felt incredibly warm, like there was some possibility that Jake was still breathing beside you, like his heart could still be pumping blood in his veins, like you could turn around and see him alive and well. Of course, that wasn’t the case.

You had been graced with life, and that night, on the unswept and bloody floor of a diner, you decided you were going to do everything in your power to keep things that way, in case the astral duo ever changed their minds and came back for you. They had spared you once, and you weren’t going to give them a reason to take that gift back.

[piratefishmama]

Beware The Thorns | Part 8

It wasn’t dark, it wasn’t dank, and it wasn’t dimly lit. Steve didn’t like stereotypes, or cliches. He didn’t like the idea of doing his business in a dark warehouse, or a basement with leaky pipes, he liked adequate lighting and things to be at least slightly sanitary. Robin knew these things, his previous ‘meeting’ had been thrown together by someone else, but Robin knew how to set up a damn fine line up.

Four men, and one woman, sat in chairs lined up next to each other, in the living room space of a currently under-development block of apartments. The one they were in was finished as were a few others, but the rest were still being built, workmen having been sent home for the day with a full days wage for their discretion.

All blindfolded, all tied up, Robin stood behind them alongside two men, back facing a wall, never a window, always with her eye on the door. The door where Steve stood, eyes on the four in front of him as he rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, hands already covered by gloves.

“What shook loose?”

“These four have talked to Eddie in the past few months. Cant tell you what they said to him, but all four have had direct verbal contact with him in some way shape or form.” Their involvement in what’d happened wasn’t likely, Robin would have bet a good chunk of whatever Steve would pay her for her work, but Steve needed it.

Steve needed to be sure.

“Just these four?” He loosened his tie before easing it away from his neck and hanging it up onto the rack where his coat and suit jacket rested.

“Mmmhm.” Most steered clear of Eddie, Eddie wasn’t to be spoken to, only Steve could talk to Eddie, and if you had to talk to Eddie, it was short, and sweet, and never about anything involving what Steve did for work.

Robin wouldn’t voice her doubts though, that wasn’t her job. Not in this environment anyway. It was her job to deliver these people, and allow Steve to do the rest. Had they been in his office, or in his living room, had he asked her outside of that room if she actually suspected these people, then perhaps it’d be her role to tell him no.

No Steve, your theories are straight up kookie-dook, Eddie just left because that’s what Eddie had to do.

That was not her role in that room. Her role was to stand there, and be quiet until excused.

“You can leave.” He didn’t look at her as he said that. He didn’t watch her as she nodded once and made for the door. She wasn’t a fan of interrogations. He got it, he understood, she’d been in a few herself over the years, the worst one involving Russians. They both had scars from that one. She’d never stayed in on his interrogations for that very reason. It made her uncomfortable knowing he was capable of that.

She liked the chase, liked the hunt, she didn’t like the kill.

He waited for the door to close behind her, to approach the four in front of him. He was grateful for two things, one… efficiency. Robin had conjured these four up within a week. And two, timesaving. She’d put them all together to save time. Amazing.

He motioned for the two extras to come forward and remove the blindfolds. He recognised all four of them.

A driver he fired two months ago for buying questionable things on his company provided credit card that was solely to be used for food and gas while working.

A secretary who still worked for him.

One of the security guards he’d hired on a temporary basis for a charity thing he’d thrown a month ago.

And a dealer from the nearby college. Not employed by him, but surely recognised him, would know who Steve was, would know of his many lucrative side businesses. Steve was instantly suspicious of two of them. The other two not so much.

All four appeared scared, there was no defiance, no faux confidence, or self-satisfaction in any of their expressions. Just fear. “You all recognise me, don’t you?” He didn’t need their answers, he knew they did. “You’re here… because you maybe broke a rule. I don’t want to hurt any of you, that’s not what I want to do. I would very much prefer it if these gloves stayed clean.” He lifted his hands, wiggling the clear gloves he wore on his hands. “Cleaners cost a fair bit, it’s always more for viscera removal.” A sob had him snap his gaze to the woman, stare thunderous, not an ounce of empathy in it. “Stop that. Tears won’t help you.”

She bit her bottom lip, nodded, and fell silent once more.

“The reason I’m beginning with a verbal interrogation, is because I have no real proof that any of you actually broke this rule. So let’s keep this violence free, shall we? I ask you a question, and you answer, I’ll decide if you’re telling the truth or not, sound fair?” Lie detectors didn’t do shit with his employees. They were all trained on them, even the damn secretaries could pass a lie detector test.

He didn’t employ useless people. He didn’t employ liabilities.

He continued when he was met by silence, not one of them wanting to argue less violence should suddenly appear on the menu. “Great! My partner, Eddie Munson… you’ve all met him.” He eyed the dealer, he had no idea that Eddie was taking something, it didn’t change how he saw the man, but… he wished he’d have known, he could have gotten Eddie better than whatever he was getting from elsewhere. “He… left. Me. Usually I’m aware this sort of thing wouldn’t really warrant a line up like this, definitely not an interrogation, but… his leaving doesn’t quite make sense.” He couldn’t make it make sense. Maybe he was just paranoid.

Steve began to pace in front of them, back and forth as he continued on “We were having such a nice night, everything seemed fine, and then… the morning after, out of nowhere, he ended things. Now, trust me, I know sometimes I can get a little in my own head, I can often think everything is fine but be missing glaringly obvious cues to things hurtling toward relationship disaster, but… there were no cues. Gone over it a bunch of times, not a single cue.” He stopped in front of the dealer.

The woman who’d tried tears to lessen whatever blow she was potentially about to receive from the big dangerous man.

“All of you, every single one of you, have spoken to him at least once in the past few months and you all know who I am. What I do. What we don’t know, is what you spoke about, so… one by one, why don’t you tell me?” Steve lowered down to a crouch in front of her, arms resting on his knees, she looked so well put together, but he knew she also worked as a TA at the college. “Stacey, right? Stacey Gingham, twelve Cornwallis, married to… Thomas Gingham, two children, Matthew, and Penelope?” He didn’t need to threaten them, just his knowledge of them was the threat, he watched the realisation of that fact dawn on her face in real time. “Hi… you’re the only one here who’s never worked for me, and so shouldn’t know about the rule. So tell me, how do you know Eddie?”

“I—I work for—”

“It doesn’t matter who you work for, Stacey, it doesn’t, your connections are useless here. I’m not scared of them. Just tell me how you know Eddie and we can get out of this unscathed, okay?” Violence wasn’t the goal here, he didn’t want to hurt them, but he would if necessary.

Innocent or not if they pushed their luck he’d respond as needed.

“He… he buys from me sometimes. His—His brother, Dustin Henderson? He goes to the college, real smart kid, highschooler but he won a place to attend the science classes for free twice a week. Eddie buys weed from me on the days he meets Dustin at the college, that’s all, he only ever buys weed. We talk about his brother, how he’s doing in the class, uh—if he needs any support, I don’t—I didn’t even know he was connected to you, Mr. Harrington, I swear.”

Eddie had a brother? Right… one of the many things he didn’t know about Eddie.

He nodded his head, silent in his processing. Then he stood up, and took one large step to the left of her, stopping at Charlie. His driver. He saw no lie in what she’d said, no break in eye contact, no pupil dilation, just standard stress indicators. She was scared, she wasn’t lying. “Charlie. You spoke to Eddie when you drove him around the city, didn’t you? Did you talk about me?”

“N-Not about you. He didn’t even ask about you Mr. Harrington an—an I know I fucked up with the card, I know I did that an I can’t take that back but—but I know the rule sir, I know it. Even if he’d have asked, sir I wouldn’t have—I wouldn’t have I swear!”

The secretary was next, he was cute, young, bit of a party guy, used to flirt with the sandwich girl at the office whenever she made her way up with Steve’s regular PB&J until she shut him down with a polite ‘you’re not my type’. She had a huge crush on Robin, it was adorable.

It was the same, Eddie had only spoken to him once, and it was about directions to the closest not Starbucks coffee place.

The security guard apologized for any confusion, and told him Eddie had only asked about his job, about other places he’d worked at cause he recognised him from a bar he’d bounced across town. Dead end, after dead end, after dead end.

Not a single viable suspect, not a single liar in the bunch.

He knew many in his position would push harder. Many would resort to violence in a bid to force out another answer, even if another answer didn’t exist. He knew many would kill, pushing it too far only to receive the same answer over and over again until the victim stopped talking. He knew what these people expected to happen to them.

Steve wasn’t that kind of person.

He walked out of that room after giving his two men the instruction to release them, turned to Robin who still stood outside the door, a knowing expression on her face, and simply asked “can you find him for me?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Part 10

[lady-sigyn]

This is just something that came out of my realization that there has been a war being waged in the world since I was a child. And honestly, that's beyond fucking terrifying. I've written this piece to share my feelings and realizations. You can reblog but please don't repost to another site, especially without my permission.

********************************

There’s a War Going On

There’s a war going on—more than one actually.

Yet I still get up each morning, have a cup of coffee, and get ready for work. My days are the same as I do chores, buy groceries, and tell my cats that no, they can’t have another snack.

And there’s still a war going on.

I turn on my phone or my TV and images of blood, death, and loss are everywhere. I no longer know whether I should feel rage or hatred toward the ones who started the war, or the people who have the power to stop it but stay silent.

After all, the ones who started the war aren’t the ones suffering.

No, feelings of pain, loss, anger, resentment, tiredness, and numbness belong to the child who’s looking for her parents who have just been bombed before her eyes, the mother trying to keep what’s left of her family safe, and the father and son trying to decide whether their family will be safer if they fight or safer if they stay.

Those in power—the ones who can stop the war—count on our feelings of helplessness and resignation. We are desensitized to war, famine, hunger, inequality, injustice, loss, pain, and the death of thousands of people whose names are being ignored in favor of disinformation and control.

But they are not numbers or casualties. They are people with names, families, friends, pets, talents, skills, and lives.

And they deserve more than the cruelty they have received in life and in death.

We have become numb shells who feel like we can’t do anything to stop a war, so we’ll wait and hope someone else handles it. Instead, we’ll use our smart devices to gain our next dose of dopamine created by a five second video on a meaningless app.

But there’s still a war going on.

How is it fair to the innocent people being injured and killed every second of every day? I live in a country where being born a woman is one of the most dangerous things you can be. Every time I leave the house, I have no idea whether I’m going to make it back as I left it—or if I’m going to make it home at all.

Yet the fear I feel isn’t even close to a fraction of the fear that the innocent experience every day as their entire lives and identities are stolen from them

But the wars being waged in countries that are not my own don’t care about your gender, your age, your race, or your religion. No, they only truly care about power and control. Yet it is those who are killed who pay and they didn’t even start the war.

They aren’t the ones who will write the history books either.

Those who won will tell the stories of the people they murdered and they will stand on a stage built on the bodies of the innocent, being congratulated by the villains for their bravery and heroism while wearing medals that are nothing more than badges of blood.

-LM-

[gobbluthbutagirl]

looking back it’s really SO insane how i tried to get promoted at target JUST for the pay raise and they couldn’t actually promote me because they only have so many “slots” available for leadership positions and they had already used up the one that would’ve been mine promoting a guy to be a second closing lead because the first guy they promoted to be closing lead(we were only supposed to have one!) was struggling too much. so they instead made me start doing the WORK of a lead WITHOUT the pay raise and they were like “oh this other lead will be your mentor! you’ll communicate closely with her and be second-in-command!” and the bitch(i’m sorry women) literally just straight up stopped communicating with me at all not even a month(during which i had to fight for my life just to get ahold of her because she NEVER answered her fucking walkie) in which continued until i left 2 months later. and there was no timeline for anything, nobody able to give me even a basic description of what the role THEY LITERALLY CREATED FOR ME was even supposed to be, no indication that i would EVER actually get the pay raise i wanted. and they expected me to just be okay with all of that and the fact that the existing leadership was both totally incompetent and making way more money than i was when i didn’t even make a living wage. ummmmmm. No!

[christaspirit]

This almost perfectly fits an alternate version of an OC of mine… hm…

It probably happened at some point with someone else though, so let’s go for it!

-

Working with the League of Heroes had been her dream since she’d unlocked her meta abilities. Like, super strength, durability, and flight?! Classics! She loved helping people too!

Initially, she started doing small hero things on the side whilst she finished up high school, and then, she was lucky enough to be approached by the League! They’d heard of her and offered her a position to join!

She spent more time with them than she did at home, with parents who couldn’t care less for her. The pay was minimum wage, but she was still in high school, and living with her parents, so it was fine.

But then she turned 18.

Her parents kicked her out, and even though she’d been saving for the last 8 months, she had nowhere near enough to afford an apartment. Getting a second job was out of the question, she got called on for missions often, questions would be asked. It was heavily discouraged if you worked with the League.

So she threw herself into league work, dropping out of high school. She needed money, and despite asking, she wasn’t given a raise.

She wanted to believe in the League still. Sure, the rules were a bit loose at times, and they called her out of school for missions at times, but they did a lot of good!

But then Blackstar, one of the top members, had his younger sister quit the league and vanish into thin air.

It had been a long time coming. Fern Amery, AKA Daybreak, had been a member of the League since she was 13, just after she’d gotten her powers. Despite that, she had been on one total mission. Most of the world didn’t even know what her powers were (plants, though many assumed water because of her blue costume). It wasn’t that she was bad at her job or anything. She was the most skilled out of all the teen heroes. But her brother was overprotective to a fault. Fern had practically been raised at the League, taught most of the teen heroes to fight, yet every mission request was turned down.

What exactly had caused her to quit out of the blue was a mystery. Well, sorta. The mission she’d been on, dealing with a killer robot, had something to do with it. But whether it had to do with the called for destruction on the suddenly harmless robot or the odd… disappearance of the man who’d created the robot was up for debate.

Off topic, whoops.

Packing the last of her things into her bag, Jade Stone, AKA Rebecca McLean stared around at the small room that she gad lived in for the past almost two years.

The League gave her a minimum wage. They gave her a place to sleep. They gave her food.

But there were more underlying issues that she hadn’t noticed before.

What exactly had happened to the man who made the robot was a secret kept by the higher ups, but rumors of him having been killed were spreading. The rumors of what had happened to Lady Arsenic, and whether her manor burning down was actually an accident had started up again.

And the thing about living at the League’s base was… you were expected to be ready to do hero things at all hours of the day. If you were at the base, you had to be working, there was no time for personal activities or hobbies.

But she was never going to get her own space at this pay rate.

Rebecca closed her bag, and shouldered it, leaving the room the way it had been when she’d first used it.

She wanted to use her powers to help people, but not to the point when she lost herself. She didn’t want to become like Blackstar. He’s started out like she had, a teen hero with stars in his eyes. Fern had looked up to him.

But along the way he had changed.

She refused to be like that.

One of the several “villain” teams had offered her a place in their ranks. They had good pay, she could get her GED, go to college, get an actual job, whilst still helping people. Even if it was more… morally grey this way.

She would’ve loved to join the hero team Fern had started, and when she’d reached out to Fern (Fern’s location wasn’t really a secret, her brother had been half stalking her and her new teammates) she’d been willing to let her join. The team seemed great too. The gal behind the chair (likely the robot, and also Fern’s girlfriend), Silverwolf the alien shapeshifter, Shepard the no power genius, and even Cardinal, the absolute sunshine (though she was a mystery. No one knew how her powers worked (she wasn’t a meta, nor was she alien), nor did anyone know her identity, something that Blackstar was extremely upset about).

But the issue was that Fern didn’t provide pay at all. She didn’t make much money herself, nor did the others, and there was still the issue of working a regular job. Not to mention Rebecca didn’t have a high school diploma.

So a “villain” team it was.

Rebecca let out a deep breath, and headed out to her new life.

So long, League of Heroes. It was good while it lasted, but she needed something else.

-

Characters mentioned (full names that might have not been disclosed):

Blackstar AKA Kiran Amery (hero)

Daybreak Vera AKA Fern Amery (hero)

Automated Vengeance Android AKA Ava (hero)

Silverwolf AKA L'ynx Kenshin (hero)

Shepard AKA Rheagan Auger (hero)

Cardinal AKA ??? (hero)

Jade Stone AKA Rebecca McLean (hero villain??)

Lady Arsenic (villain, deceased)

You are a superhero who joined a team for pay and benefits. However, the pay is minimum wage since you have no education and they made it so you are blackballed in the civilian world so you can’t work there either. So imagine their surprise when you joined the villain’s team.

[otter1962crystalball]

Facing an Addiction

June 16, 2024

Today is June 16th and we are in the second half of Pride Month. Today I am continuing the story about Dean from yesterday.

Dean and I grew very close. He would often stay in my condo over night. On the weekends, we would sometimes stay at his apartment. I was getting really tired of the nonsense that goes on in Condo committees, so one day, I put my condo up for sale. I had done some really good upgrades so I got substantially more than I paid for it. Dean and I bought a house in Strathcona using most of my money. Dean helped out by making payments and buying groceries. I was teaching full-time and he continued to work at the bathhouse. We stayed there for a little more than a year and then we decided to buy a better house off Commercial Drive. It had more space and a lot less work to be done to it. I lived there until 2013.

For the most part, we had a great life together. We both loved the house and spending time together. Then one day it all started to change. A long time friend of Dean’s moved back to Vancouver. It turns out that he was dying of cancer and wanted to have some fun before he passed. Dean was more than willing to help him live his dream before he passed. I have to add that Dean was a very kind and humble man. He would help just about anyone. So it came to be surprise when Dean’s friend changed everything.

When I first met Dean, he was taking Percocet for a back pain. Before his friend arrived, he had switched to Oxycontin. I never really thought much about it because Dean had stopped drinking alcohol and we celebrated his sobriety every year. This year would be different. Dean started to not come home or be outside the club when I went to pick him up. He would be late and would give no reason why. His demeanour also changed. He complained of of not getting enough Oxycontin. It was around this time when he started to miss payments to help with the mortgage. I was working in a good teaching job, so naive me just paid the bills.

One day, I went to pick him up and he wasn’t there. I parked the car and went into the bathhouse. Another friend knew me and let me in so I could find Dean. What I found shocked me. There was Dean in a sling and had a parade of men going into his room and fucking him. I found this out from the friend who let me in. I approached Dean and took him home. His friend kept coming back and Dean would disappear for days on end. I was very confused as to what was going on.

The day where everything changed was one that shocked me to my core. I asked Dean if he were taking drugs. He said that he was taking crystal meth, also known as Tina. Previous to Dean, I had had a couple friends who became addicted to the stuff and I knew that it was very difficult to quit taking it. I asked Dean how long and he said for the last month, but pointed out to me that he could quit whenever he wanted. It all became clear why he hadn’t been paying his part of the bills. He had started using his wages to get Oxycontin for him and his friend. Turns out they were freebasing it (grinding it up and cooking it in a spoon and injecting it). Later, Dean turned to crystal because his friend took it because he knew he was going to die and didn’t care. Dean, while he was able to stop drinking, he hadn’t dealt with the reason why he was drinking in the first place. His problems never went away, but just hid so far inside that I never knew he was suffering from this. So he turned to crystal.

I told him that I would not continue a relationship with him if he continued to use crystal. I also told him that I stand by him if he got help. He again said he could quit anytime he wanted. The problem was, he and his friend didn’t want to quit. So, I told Dean that our relationship was over and that he would have to find a place to live because he hadn’t paid anything in months. What he did was to barricade himself in the basement. He barred the basement door and the two back doors. He told me that he had a right to live there as he was on the mortgage. I didn’t know what to do, so I contacted another friend and I can remember quite clearly what he said, “Grant the Dean that you once knew is now dead. You’ll never get him back.”

I quickly realized that I had a major problem on my hands. Soon, there were people knocking on my door asking for Dean. There was a constant stream of men coming and going from the basement. I called a lawyer and began the process of getting him out of the house. 

Dean lost his job because of his addiction, so he just stayed in the basement for most of the time. I had to beg him to allow me to use the washer and dryer in the basement. He had to supervise me when I was doing so because he said that I was after him and that I was a horrible person. It also turned out that he seroconverted because of the many men with whom he had had sex. 

One Friday night, a few months in, I came home from school exhausted. I sat on the couch and suddenly I heard this horrible banging in the work shed side of the basement. It had a separate entrance form the other side. I banged on the door instead of using the key. He came to the door naked. I asked him what he was doing. He said that he and another guy were fucking and whether I wanted to join them. He was clearly stoned and was very aggressive. I looked past him and saw that he had installed a sling from the ceiling and that was what I heard from the first floor. I begged Dean to not do this. The other guy quickly dressed and ran out. Dean followed him, so I went and took the sling down and hid it in the garage. When Dean came back, I could hear him screaming in the basement and soon, he was knocking on the front door. I opened it a crack and he yelled at me to give him back the sling. I tried to push the door closed, but he was stoned and seemed to have found major strength. He pushed the door ajar enough to reach in and scratch me down my arm, which started to bleed. I told him it was in the garage and that I was calling the police, so he took off.

When the policeman arrived, he came into the house and I told him about being attacked by Dean. He asked, if we were a couple and I said no longer. He also asked if Dean was on the mortgage. I said yes. I asked him if he was going to help me and charge Dean for assault. The policeman just looked at me and said, “I can’t interfere with family issues. This is between you and him.” I then plainly asked him that if I were a woman, would he help me? He simply said, “Yes. Have a good evening. Just don’t get stabbed or shot.” He then left me there to try and understand what had just happened.

I am going to stop the story here because there is a lot more to it. I got sick a few days after Dean’s attack. My doctor examined me and took some tests. He told me that I had dysentery and it was caused by Dean’s scratch down my arm and that it was from having sex without cleaning up. I was horrified.

Dean had indeed changed from a humble kind man to this raving maniac. My lawyer told me that welfare had provided Dean with a lawyer. This is when the fight for my sanity and my home began.

For this Pride, I am celebrating surviving a trauma. Tomorrow I will write why. If you have faced dealing with a drug addict, then you know what I had to deal with in this situation.

Carpe diem, everyone and happy Pride.

[incompatible-with-life]

I need to be put down.

I don’t even feel human. I’m so removed from what a normal human experience should be. I can’t do that. I can’t have that. I’m not a social animal. It kills me. I have social anxiety so bad I would rather die than make a phone call to a stranger, and not in a quirky exaggerated way. I have literally tried to kill myself because I was so terrified of a phone call I knew I’d have to take the next day. I can’t have social connections. I’m not built like that. They don’t help me, they hurt me. They put me in near-constant stress and terror. I cannot overstate enough that social situations drive me to suicidal levels of dread. I can’t actually comprehend that for some most people that those aren’t only relatively stress-free events but positive ones??

I can’t see myself as a part of a species who’s social need is something that harmful to me. What do you mean something that’s supposed to be a need for that species is literally killing me and I’m supposed to feel kinship? I can feel that over art, passion, and pleasure, but over socialization and community? I feel nothing but dread and the self-hatred of being in an environment that makes it so painfully clear how there’s something wrong with my very being that makes me unable to be like them. I’ll never be able to be open in front of anyone who isn’t one of the rare (about 3 in my entire life, definitely not more than 5) I didn’t miraculously fall into closeness with. I’ll never be able to enjoy party games and activities. I’ll never be invited to interesting events. I’ll never have a job that’s not a shitty minimum wage job I have to leave after a month because daily social interactions and constantly being watched wears me down to suicide attempts barely a month in.

I’m not made for human life. Human life causes me mental anguish. Yet human society doesn’t give me an easy route to anything survivable. If I can’t socialize enough to keep a job, I can’t pay for food or shelter. I can’t just live on the streets because there’s laws against that (not even getting into survivable weather, safety from dangerous people, etc) I can’t go live in the wild because besides the potential legality of that, I wasn’t raised in an environment where I could develop any sort of survival skills. I can’t do anything. I’m trapped in a cycle of dread, misery, exhaustion from constant dread and misery, the odd random boost of motivation to try to survive, then right back in the trenches usually only a few days later when I remember how impossible it is for me

[uncommon-etc]

Not quite the same, but one time myself and four colleagues got made redundant from the branch we worked in of a chain of aquatic shops, because the garden centre our premises was based in wanted to lease the space out to a Costa, which was rubbish, because it would be at least six months before our boss could open a new branch and none of us had the kinds of savings required to not work for six months until we could start back at the new shop.

So everyone worked those last couple of weeks knowing that the shop would be closing, and that we’d all have to find something else and you know what? They were some of the best weeks of my working life. Our manager gave us paid time off to go and do interviews for other jobs (before we couldn’t even get paid time off for medical appointments), the regional manager gave us a tonne of discounts on stuff for our fish, because he was have to move all the stock to another shop anyway and he felt bad that we’d be out of a job. We all thought about how well we actually liked each other, and how much we’d miss each other when we didn’t see each other every day (a lot of people think the close colleague relationships they see in a show like Superstore or Parks and Rec are unrealistic until they have to bid those people goodbye and change jobs)

Because we could basically do anything and there would be no reprecussions because we all knew we were losing our jobs anyway through no faults of our own, we all became a lot nicer to each other, and the higher-ups became a lot nicer to us. I would have gladly gone on doing that job, as it was in those last few weeks, for the rest of my working life, and I was barely getting paid above minimum wage. If I could do it for a proper living wage, the kind you could pay off a mortgage with, I’d do it forever and never complain about how doing a face-to-face role with the public can be the absolute worst.

[2hlawfirm]

3 Common Mistakes That Can Lead To Denied Wrongful Death Claim

The death of a loved one has a significant effect on everyone who goes through it. Grieving is painful and takes a long time, but it takes even longer when the person who died was killed in an unfair way. If your loved one died because of something that shouldn’t have happened, you can file a wrongful death claim.

A wrongful death claim is a lawsuit filed by the family members of a person who died because of someone else’s carelessness. You can file a claim for wrongful death if the person who died was under 18 or over 65 and their spouse, children, or parents living with them.

A wrongful death claim has two parts. The first part is for compensatory damages, which are money to cover the dead person’s medical bills, funeral costs, and lost wages. The second part is for punitive damages, which are meant to hurt the person who is being sued.

How To File a Wrongful Death Claim?

To file a wrongful death claim, you will need to make and submit an affidavit that says how the person died and what your relationship was with them. The testimony should include any proof that backs up the case, like medical records and statements from people who were there and saw what happened (if any).

Common Mistakes That Can Deny a Wrongful Death Claim

Waiting Too Long Before Filing the Claim Even though it’s hard to think about when your loved ones died, it’s important to think about how long you must start legal proceedings. In these situations, you may have more time to file a claim, usually up to two years after the person died or the cause of death became known (or should have become known), whichever came first. For example, if a person dies because of bad care from a doctor, the time limit is two years from the date of death.

Making Public Statements If you want to file a wrongful death claim for the person who died, don’t say anything in public to the police, the media, or other people. Because these things can be used against you in court, you should always talk to your lawyer before you do anything.

Not Hiring a Lawyer Claims of wrongful death are hard to understand. Insurance companies will always look for ways not to pay out claims. So, your case against them should be perfect. But when you’re sad about the death of a loved one, your thoughts can be all over the place. Since you are too close to the case, it can be hard to keep the emotional distance that is needed from it. When this happens, a lawyer is necessary. It is better to let the experts handle the legal process than to try to do it yourself.

Conclusion

Even if the person who killed your loved one didn’t mean to, you need a lawyer to explain your family’s rights if they died because of what someone else did. Contact the lawyers at 2H Law Firm. We know the laws about wrongful death in California and how complicated personal injuries and wrongful deaths can be. Call (619) 374-9320  for a no-cost case evaluation.

[olderthannetfic]

I’ve seen so many fan translators who weren’t meaningfully fluent in both languages, and the results can be hilarious. Of course, I’ve also seen pro translators of things like manga who didn’t understand the most basic idioms in English, so...

If the US were willing to pay anything close to a living wage for fiction translation, we’d have fewer problems, but the only people who can make a reasonable living are the patent translators and such.

So I don't care abt the morality of this, so eh. I download fan translated works, even when there's an official version. Most cases, aka when I have the funds and know about it, I buy the officially translated works and books, but there's something very special and specific about fan translated works, by people who you know actually care about the source

--

[locallixie]

first feelings — jongho

✦ genre ; romance, smut, mature, angst, choi brothers au, friends-to-lovers, older brother’s best friend love interest, best friend’s brother!jongho, san is older than jongho by five years, masc!reader, top!jongho, bot!reader.

✦ warnings ; include general sexual contents, protected sex, blowjob, cum swallowing, strong language, dub-con, degradation kink, hyung kink, anxious arousal, indirect voyeurism(?), exhibitionism, masturbation, immense sexual frustration.

✦ word count ; 5.6k

Every few weeks, San would invite you over to his house just to spend time together. You two were close friends ever since you were still back in high school. Now that you were both university graduates and were finding jobs and opportunities at the same time, the tradition was getting harder and harder to maintain. It wasn’t a surprise every-time where one of you had to cancel last minute on your plans, or the hours must be shortened because one of you had to attend your minimum wage job. It was tiring to say the least, and utterly difficult to arrange times for some best friends bonding time.

You lost contact with San after a while; you heard nothing from him, and neither did he. Your last text message from San was almost a year ago, he was talking about an interview at a fairly known publishing outlet. You hoped he did pass, he never updated you on wether or not he got accepted.

In your case, you had been working as a freelancer. Jumping from places to places, experimenting with different industries and businesses. Your income was questionable since you didn’t have a fixed occupation or were a ‘permanent’ employee at a certain company. Your line of work was somewhat of a mess if one could say as so.

Your reconnection with San was also like your career choices, odd, it was. You bumped into San at a marketplace, he was there to write an article on independent businesses. You could barely recognise San. Clearly impressed of how grown he was in the short span of a couple years.

He told you to come over like older days, stay the night at his home exactly as when you two were kids. San was still living with his parents due to the lack of nice living places that met his standard and budget. Also was because of his younger brother, Choi Jongho, who was a freshman in university. His parents were retired already, therefore, placing the burden of Jongho’s educational finances onto the first born.

“I see, can I do anything to help?” You asked San, being the kind-hearted and empathetic friend you were.

The car San was driving both of you in was his father’s, it looked old and almost broken-down but still did its job well. The exterior was covered in a layer of dirt and dust, something seemed like it had fallen off. Yet, the inside was cleaned and well-taken care of. The leather seats felt new, the carpets was also changed, much different from when San’s father was still driving you and him to school.

“It’s fine, [Y/N], I got it under control.” San reassured, his eyes stuck to the road as he held your conversation.

You were still worried even if San said he was doing fine. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust his words, you did, it was because you didn’t want to see him overworking himself until he was finally burned out like a half-finished cigarette.

San added, “Jongho is also working part-time to pay off his tuition fees, I’m just in charged of the major parts. There’s no reason for your assistance, but thank you anyway, [Y/N].”

You exited the car, arriving at the front door beside your best friend. San turned his keys; this type of lock was highly outdated ‘cause of people nowadays used fingerprints, or simply any type of lock that required advanced technology. His house hasn’t moved anywhere since the last time you’d been here, there wasn’t much that changed. A rush of nostalgia ran through your body, your adolescent years suddenly came flying back.

You remembered all the stupid, childish games you used to play with each other. You would play the role of a mage, Jongho would be a great swordsman who fought alongside you, and you both would take down San, who was the dragon. The sword and wand was made out of construction paper, which didn’t hurt when used as a weapon but has a high risk of a paper-cut if handled incorrectly. You missed the better days, when you wasn’t stressed out by the mature adult life. After university, you struggled to find a job, manage your new life as grown-up, and a purpose for your contribution.

You walked inside, your best friend’s living space felt a little different. Maybe it was the interiors, the house decorations did went through some modifications, you could tell. His parents greeted you, you were almost like their own child from how close you was to their actual ones. Back then you stayed over more often than you should, almost as if it was your second home.

“Hyung! Can you please stop stealing my clothes, I have nothing clean to wear now!” You heard a clearly annoyed voice rang down the stairs, and footsteps following behind.

San returned, “Oh, come on, I only took one shirt and you’re being dramatic over it.” The two Choi brothers shared a love-hate relationship of some sort. They fought and bickered with each other often, nonetheless, having a tight bond deep down between the two siblings.

The Jongho you once knew was small and a timid, he stood to your shoulders. And when you saw him again; from a shy boy that enjoyed diving into your embrace, he has grew up to become a man that could easily overshadow you. He could now make direct eye-contact with you without having to tilt his head, but you having to tilt yours.

Jongho expressed his displeasure, “Asshole, you could at least ask before you take my things?” His mother hit him, scolded him for talking in that level of informally toward his brother.

His eyes met yours, as if a switch was flipped inside of him. “Ah, [Y/N]-hyung, hey.” His tone of voice immediately changed when talking to you, definitely different from what he used to talk to his brother. None of the passive-aggressive speeches, or even overly formal. A soft, gentle voice similar to the one you knew of from most of his earlier years.

“Hi, Jongho, how’s university?” You asked. He has mixed opinions regarding education, and school as a whole. It wasn’t like he didn’t do well in school, in fact, he was close to a model student back in the days. It was that he had no interest, he only performed as such because of his family’s expectations for an average asian. It was a reoccurring joke that asians has incredible academic strength as a natural trait. Even if some asian parents didn’t have crazily unachievable expectations for their offsprings, it was still a norm to be above average.

He replied with uncertainty, “Well, I am in the engineering major, there is fun projects but overall nothing special. Either way, it’s still school.” You nodded to that answer, you were unsure of what you could say. San sensing the uneasy rising tension and silence between you and his brother, he offered you a seat on the couch to dissolve whatever that was.

After Jongho’s presence disappeared from the general living space, San turned to look at you. He didn’t want to offend the younger, only speaking when it was the two of you left. “What the fuck was that? That felt so awkward.” San giggled, pointing out the blatant discomfort.

You shook your head, “No idea.” You both had nothing to hide from each other, no secrets, no reason to. Plain truths and honesty; if something or someone was being weird, either one of you would speak up about it.

You spent your time there playing video games, catching up on current life situations, then as well as staying for dinner with the Choi family. Jongho was absent from most of the time during your visit, though, you met him when dinner came around. You sat next to San at the dinner table, and across from his younger brother. Mrs. Choi’s cooking was amazing like how it always was, rice, meat, vegetables, and a clear broth from whatever greens that were used.

San suggested staying the night over at his house, it was already late and pitch-dark as of this moment talking. You denied at first, but soon was persuaded by your best friend and his parents. You didn't want to disturb his family, but they were oh-so-insistent. Hence, not wanting to upset San and his parents, you accepted.

You were uncertain of how you should react when San asked you to borrow his brother’s clothes instead of his, even after their little back and forth with the whole clothes stealing situation. You had a hard-to-read expression on your face, not anger but more like confusion, or an unexplainable mix in between.

"Why do you want me to borrow his clothes?" You showed an arched brow, questioning one of his most bizarre requests out of your and San's two decades friendship.

San rubbed his temples, "None of my clothes are clean, and I'm a hundred percent sure that you do not want to wear my sweat and fried chickens oil stained stuff." He gestured toward the door across from him outside the hallway, "If you please, tell Jongho that you're borrowing his clothes for tonight."

You sighed, "Do your laundry, you fucking animal." San pouted, gathering the rest of his dirty laundry that was spread out all over his bedroom. The more organised one between the two of you was San, everything fell apart after graduation, including San's usual well-maintained habits.

To Jongho's room you went, knocking before you enter since you respected other's privacy. You waited until a sign allowed your access, you opened the door in. There you saw the younger boy sat, wiping dust off his old baseball bat. The memory of the two brothers playing baseball that once slipped your mind now returned. It was an uncommon sport, you'd say. Basketball and football was more developed and gaining popularity among the young children and teenagers, making baseball a forgotten sport to some.

You attended every baseball game that the two sibling contributed in, which was a lot to list down. San and Jongho was on the school's team; one was a center fielder, the other was a batter. Although, they did swapped roles around for some leagues and practice sessions.

Both being highly involved with sport, notably baseball, the pair shared outstanding physical attributes and fit bodies. San and Jongho seemed bulkier and much more muscular than ever before, hiding their true form under oversized clothing.

“Hey, Jongho. This sound weird but San told me, I could ask you for some clothes.” You told him as you leaned against the door frame.

You knew better to be comfortable then to sleep in discomfort with a pair of skinny jeans wrapped around your legs. The waistband hugged your hips a bit too well for your liking, strange lines that were bright red appeared on your skin. Should have worn much casual clothing if you knew you would be staying over at someone’s place. Your goal was to look good and presentable in front of the public’s eyes.

The younger answered, “Yeah, sure.” Putting the bat where you supposed it was its original spot, leaned up the small vacant space between his bed and bookcases. You admired his room while he was busy rummaging through his drawers for clothes. The first thing that hit you was the scent which lingered all over Jongho’s room. Citrusy, and a hint of sandalwood. Was it his cologne? Or was it the detergent for his sheets? It smelled wonderful, and very calming at the same time.

His bookcases and shelfs filled with bunches of books, mechanical catalogues, and a few random and obviously useless knick-knacks. Was that a pornographic magazine you discovered, sat half-opened on his nightstand? None of your business, absolutely no place for you to comment on. He was already an adult, and he was capable of making his own choices, wants, and needs. He was allowed to have his own desires, and wet dreams.

He was such a baby back then, you couldn't quite recognise him even when standing near him. The only feature that stayed with him and reminded you that this person you were looking at was Jongho, was his eyes, his eyes has a sense of familiarity to you. Big, adorable dove eyes, held the sweetest things. You loved the way its soul was innocent and mellow, lids folded a soft curve like a bridge to paradise. His eyes was memorable, it forced you to remember him every time you made eye-contact with.

"[Y/N]-hyung, here." Jongho handed you a pair of shorts and a graphic t-shirt with some music band on it. He looked up to see you staring at him, your reflection in his eyes. He came closer, inching forward bit by bit.

Half-lidded eyes, he gazed intently. As if you were a book, and he was reading you by each written paragraph. Only with his eyes, he peeled off every layer of your attire. It felt hot, it felt scarily sensuous. You weren’t sure if you liked or hated this feeling, you never had these specific thoughts surrounding your best friend’s younger brother.

You broke the ice, “I…should get back, thanks for letting me borrow your clothes. Goodnight, Jongho.” You returned to San’s room with his brother’s stuff in your hands, the other already changed out of his earlier outfit.

“What took you so long? Jongho is literally five steps away from my room.” San questioned, turning off his laptop. He probably was writing his article’s draft, the intense typing you heard in the background while at Jongho’s room must have been from him.

You grabbed the edges of your shirt, “If you’re going to say shit like that, why didn’t you go get it for me in the first place?” You replied sassily. Your conversations always sounded mean to outsiders, the usage of profanities, and the overall sarcastic tone. But you two were just good friends and knew each other since you were still both high-schoolers, therefore, the way you and San talked were much more personal and only comprehensible to the two of you.

You took off your shirt entirely, letting it dropped onto the floor. You changed with San still being present, you couldn’t cared less, you were used to it from the many times changing to gym clothes in the boys’ locker room. And no, nothing sexual happened there, at least not to you.

“How’s your little crush, San? Jung Wooyoung?” You asked, jumping on his bed.

San let out a laugh, he pushed you playfully. For the entirety of your friendship, San has these overwhelming feelings of admiration for a guy from the same year but different tutor group. Jung Wooyoung was the start of everything, a student across the corridor.

Wooyoung was the sweet, outgoing type. It wasn’t a big surprise to anyone that the guy radiated strong bisexual vibes. He did dated girls and guys, older and younger, he was popular to make a long story short. San was one of the many fews that was into Wooyoung, though, actually never gotten the chance to go out with him. Wooyoung was pretty, the school’s heartthrob, how could he ever pay attention to another one of his admirers? That was what they were, admirers.

“Nah, Wooyoung’s getting married soon. Too, I’m not into him anymore.” San told, leaning on the headboard of his bed.

Hearing so, it piqued your interest. “Married? Jung fucking Wooyoung is getting married? To who? And where did you find this?” You asked, sending a rapid fire of questions.

“To someone, he just wrote ‘Getting married to the love of my life’ on his status board with a picture of two wedding rings inside a box.” San explained, how vague. Wooyoung wasn’t one who sleep around, and had many long-lasting relationships before. It was that you never thought the guy was ever seriously devoted to someone, and look at him now, to be wed to the one who he presumed as special.

You rested your back up against the wall, “So…is there a fresh face you fancy?” You knew San as a flirty yet reserved person, getting a date wasn’t much of a problem to him. People adored San, good-looking and kind-hearted, the full package.

San shrugged, “No,” He looked to the side, to the night sky through the window panes. “I haven’t been that into courtships recently.” Added with ease. How out-of-character for him, not being interested in dating or romance. You wondered what troubled his mind for him to be so impassive towards love.

San laid down, pulling the covers to his chest. “I’m tired, let’s go to sleep, [Y/N].” He changed the topic, or was it evading himself from revealing something he wasn’t meant to.

“You’re no fun.” You laid down next to him, slipped into the covers. San seemed happy today, he probably missed your company. Despite not seeing each other for a long period of time, your unique bond and dynamic still as strong as ever. He bid you goodnight, and you did the same.

Since you were little; you would always wake up in the middle of the night without a reason, especially when sleeping at a different place beside your own bedroom. You slept over at San’s for years but the unwanted awakenings still stuck tight with you. Your problem has been in question for longer than you could handle.

Two options, either try to go back to sleep, or stay up ‘til dawn. With the first one, it was a hit or miss situation. Sometimes you succeed, sometimes you didn’t. The second one was simply stupid, you would only choose it as a last resort. You silently laid in your place, considering what could you do to fall back into your slumber. Nothing came to mind, a blank slate, your head was so clear that completely nothing showed up.

You closed your eyes, praying that you would eventually fall asleep. The sound your ears could catch on was the breathing of the person beside you, the wind blowing gently through every teeny cracks, and the soft, muffled moans from an unknown voice. You immediately opened your eyes, now very awoken. Moans, you heard? Its volume increased, louder and louder by each passing second. But you were the sole person that noticed its existence, as if it was making itself known to you, to exclusively you.

You stepped off the bed, quiet enough so you wouldn't disrupt San's rest. Your bare feet meeting the cold wooden floor, the temperature dropped late into the night. The breeze washed through you, hitting your back first which caused you to shiver violently. The voice was your guide, you followed it like Little Red Riding Hood following the track to grandmother's house. But like how the story told, the track led to the big bad wolf.

You covered your mouth with both hands, standing behind the door of Jongho's bedroom as you listened to his voice calling out for something, or someone. "Ah~ [Y/N]-hyung, you're doing so well. Riding on my cock like a fucking slut." Your eyes widened, hearing your name seeping through the door that separated you from the younger.

You cussed yourself internally, telling yourself that you should mind your own business and get the hell out. Even worse, you caught a glimpse of Jongho stroking himself through the crack-opened door of his. That was enough for you, and so you decided to return to where you were supposed to be. But your knees was shaking, your back not wanting to get off the wall. Before you could react, your back was now pressing on Jongho's floor. The door was opened wide, and you were there on the ground.

"Speak of the devil, were you enjoying the show, hyung?" Jongho said, looking down as he was standing before you. He walked pass you, to the door he locked it shut. He turned his attention to you once more, his eyes slowly trailing down your figure.

Oh how you looked so seductive wearing his clothes on your body, even if it covered the majority of you. The part he was most focused on was your exposed collarbone; due to his shirt being a bit looser-fitting on you, the shirt collar could easily dropped down. He would love to suck on it, leaving marks of his affection toward you.

The position you were currently in excited him, he would fuck you right there on the floor if you let him. You stood yourself up, staring at him. It felt like every time you see each other, the atmosphere all of a sudden turned hot and bothered. When did it started? When did you ever felt that way about Jongho? Your best friend's younger brother, for God's sake.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I…should probably go.” You passed him, pushing many thoughts out of your head. Before your hand could twist the door knob for it to unlock, Jongho was the one who came first place to unlock something in you.

His body pressed against yours, your body pressed against the door. Your breath hitched, you were caged between his strong arms. The growing bulge in his pant was rubbing up your backside, consequently, making yourself hard in the process. That sensation which grew more and more inside of you, your stomach, your crotch was filled with it.

"Jongho, I'm not sure if we should do this, what would San think?" You asked, you knew deep down you did felt some type of desire for him. However, you wouldn't explicitly state.

He always acted a little intimate toward you if you could put it into words. He was affectionate, which he wasn't known for. Jongho wasn't a 'physical-touch' person, he didn't enjoy people touching him in a certain way like hugs or joking cheek kisses. But for you, he would break all his principles. He liked wrapping his arms around your waist, even better when you jumped a bit as you were startled by his unanticipated embrace. Or when he kissed your lips out of the blue, and simply shrugged it off as a joke. Of course, you didn't think much of it. He was younger then, but you felt a shift in your relationship nonetheless.

You left to develop your career after university, and left him as well. Now that you were back finally, he couldn't let his chance slip. He didn’t care wether or not your answer would be what he expected, his sole objective was to let you know about these feelings that blossomed in him because of you. Now or never, he thought.

Jongho whispered in your ears, “Hyung, do you remember when I told you I would wife you up?” Such a childish claim, he told you so when he was seventeen and you were in your early twenties. Wife you up, he said. You laughed it off, thinking it was just another one of his stupid flirty sayings exactly like how his brother would talk to most people. But maybe he actually meant it with some sort of sincerity when he said those immature words.

You were in your mid-twenties by now, and still, he wanted you. The feelings should have started to become this way not long ago, correct? Not quite, at least to your knowledge. “You know I like you more than my own brother, right? I like you in such a way that he would disapprove of.” He told, fully aware that San wouldn’t be so happy if he ever found out.

Jongho placed his lips on the area that connected your neck and shoulders, from there, he made his way up. He has physical attributes that made him strong and somewhat intimidating, in opposite, his touches and kisses were gentle and calm unlike how lustful many people his age were.

You let out a quiet whimper; his hands, which was lightly coated with something sticky, felt up your bare chest underneath the shirt of his that you were wearing. Your head tilted back on its own as a respond when he touched your buds, kneading it in his fingers.

"God, Jongho, you didn't clean your hands? That's fucking disgusting." You whined, which made him laughed.

Jongho replied, "You're making seem like you're not going to be covered in it soon." You mouth agape as soon as those vulgar ideas entered through your ears. San was one to blame for sure, being a major influence all throughout his life. You get the flirty, but weren't used to the dirty.

One slid down your stomach to the nether regions of your body, the other kept its place on your chest. You moaned, his hand reached your already aroused cock. You would admit with every truths in you, he was great at pleasuring his sex partner. Even if he was a virgin or seemed inexperienced at first glance. You doubted that he had ever gotten laid with anyone; if he wanted you this bad, he would have saved himself for you. The years you spent away from him, pornographic materials must have trained him well for this very day.

He stroked you, up-and-down, occasionally running his thumb over your swollen tip. The sounds that escaped your mouth was lewd, you never knew yourself have the capability to produce such things. You could sense the build-ups coming, your pelvis jerking slightly. Your hot breaths hitting the cold surface of the door, unstable, shaky, it was.

A hand grabbed you by the jaw, turning your face to him. He leaned in to kiss you, shutting you up before you could make any more noise that most possibly lead to you two getting caught. Jongho pushed his tongue in, reaching out for yours. Although, he seemed like he know a lot and he did a great job proving so. But you could clearly tell that he still have much to learn, merely by the way he kissed you. Amateur, but he has the spirit.

You closed your eyes, biting his lips as you released your high. It sprayed onto his door, the white on white making it looked almost discreet under the sensual lighting of his room. An orange-red mix of some sort, the mood light by the corner illuminating his space.

"You're a filthy whore, hyung. You came all over my door." Jongho giggled. He turned you around to face him, then slung you over his shoulder in one swift motion. The bed, he brought you to. You laid there, half-naked, and only with his shirt that covered a sensitive part of yours.

Jongho removed his top, now you finally got a clear view of his torso. Under his bulky clothes, he was fit and fairly toned. He got close and personal with you, leaning into your ears as he whispered sinful things that has an unknowingly sweet undertone.

Jongho brought up, "Now that I've enrolled in university, can I perhaps...have a congratulation gift?"

Skeptical, you replied with suspicion in your voice. "And what in particular is it that you want?"

"Blow me." He said, with all the confidence he has. More like waiting to say those peculiar two words. You were caught off guard, taken back by what he just said. He has his hands on the waistband, slowly pulling it down before your eyes.

Dropping his pants and undergarment off the bed, where the most of your clothes rested. Already seen the silhouette of his cock, you were much surprised when you got a closer look. “Oh my— You’ve grown.” You commented. The pre-cum from earlier dripped and dropped, you gripped the rim of his shirt as you watched it inching to your lips.

His tip kissed your lips, you opened your mouth to take it in little by little. Your mouth was warm and fleshy, way better than using his hands or an unspecified toy for adults. You started going easy on yourself since you weren’t an expert on these things. The head, then halfway, then the entire thing. It touched the back at your throat, causing you to gaged slightly, tears brimming in your eyes.

You looked up at him, gluing yours onto his. Jongho covered his mouth, he held your head with the other one. “Don’t look at me like that, I might just fuck your face till you cry, hyung.” Your hair felt soft under his hand and between his fingers, the delightful scent of your shampoo lingered around his nose. He could sniff you all day, how could he ever resist you?

His cock slid deeper down your throat as his gently pushed his pelvis toward your face. He moaned and groaned, making known of all his hidden dark desires and sexual fantasies. With you sucking him off like that, sending him to cloud nine.

Your mouth, which overfilled with cum, leaking out from the corners of your pretty lips. It all ran down your throat and into your system in one big gulp, the taste wasn't as pleasant as some might say but tolerable. Jongho lifted your face by the chin, he licked your lips. "I hope I'm not terrible for your taste, hyung." He laughed, trying a drop of himself as well.

You wiped your mouth, leaning back into the soft mattress of his bed. You laughed, "Come and make me yours like how you wanted to do long ago." He crawled to you, having that heart-throbbing smile plastered on his face. How could he be so cute when he was preparing to do something so naughty.

Jongho put his lips on yours once more, soft and plump like peaches. As you laid down, those disobedient hands slid up your thighs. He easily overpowered you, he was the sky and you were under him. Your lips, cheeks, jaw, and neck all stained with his charming marks. Rumbling and fumbling on the side as he searched for the lube bottle from the drawer of his nightstand. It felt cold, and slimy as it slid down your hole.

Yelping, your face scrunched up in discomfort. He started with one, then two, then eventually three fingers. You spread your legs, changing to a nicer position. The more you got used to his fingers going in-and-out of you, the more all those euphoric feelings you have been missing in your life came creeping up upon you.

"Lower your voice, or do you want someone to catch us? Does that excite you, you slut?" You bit down on your bottom lip, holding back your voice. Never been this vocal in bed before, what a change-up when you started using your voice more. The noises you made was like music to his ears, especially when he was the conductor. As much as he enjoyed it, he needed to keep it down, he was fucking his brother's best friend after all.

You held the condom packet between your teeth, Jongho pulled on the wrapper as it ripped open. He slid the condom over his cock, now covered in a pellucid latex layer. He pulled you closer by your legs, his pelvis touching your backside, his cock rubbing up against yours. Slowly and steady, he slid it in you. Your heart pounding violently inside your chest, your heartbeat rang for everyone to hear. It picked up its pace when he entered fully. Relaxed thrusts at first, he was afraid that he was going to hurt you if he went all out from the beginning. But when your lips quivered and asked him to go faster, he happily complied.

Slamming into you without any mercy, and moving his lips with yours in an aggressive manner similar to animals. You felt his cock hitting area and cervices deep inside your body, more or less 'rearranging one's guts' like how they all say.

His sweat carried the citrusy scent of his cologne, dominating what would be the unpleasant smell of body oder. He held one of your thighs, going in-and-out at another angle. And with one more single thrust; you reached your high, coming untouched all over his bedsheets. His grip tightened around your hips, coming right after.

A daze, you were in. Your breaths was as unstable as his during his last baseball game. Chest ascending then descending, alternating for a while until you could calm down. Only wearing his shorts, he helped you clean up everything. Throwing a different shirt at you for you to change out.

He went back to bed beside your tired body, held you in his arms like how you once did back in the days. "San will go fucking crazy when he finds out." You told, caressing his sore shoulders. Despite how much you both tried, you knew you were being loud and obvious.

Jongho giggled, "Of course, he would. I basically slept with his best friend while he was sleeping." You could only imagine San waking up and finding you asleep in Jongho's bed, his expression would change and he would start going off on his brother—Who most possibly would wear a playful face and boast about having sex with you last night.

Jongho pecked your lips, "I love you, [Y/N]-hyung. I've never stop loving you." All of a sudden, the atmosphere changed to being intimate in a wholesome way. You rubbed his head, silently saying it back as he got the memo.

[morganofthewildfire]

“Is that a ring box in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” for the Valentine’s day prompt!

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A Not So Cliche Love

thanks for the prompt!!

~1.5k words

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His friends all said it was cliche, Aelin’s friends had said it was cliche, Rowan himself knew it was cliche, yet somehow he didn’t care. Because it wasn’t Valentine’s day that had drawn him to picking this particular date, it was simply the fact that three years ago that day, he’d seen her for the first time and had instantly fallen.

They’d met through unconventional means, yet somehow still cliche. They’d both been in college, Aelin at the prestigious University of Terrasen, while Rowan was paying his way through Orynth Community College, just hoping to get by. And to afford the tuition, he’d picked up a minimum wage job at the local department store in the Orynth mall, the site of his aforementioned cliche meeting.

It’d been Valentine’s Day, and to his utter exasperation, his boss had forced all his employees into hideous vomitty pink versions of their normal uniform shirt. He’d been stationed in the jewelry section, which he’d say was even worse if not for the fact that that’s where he’d laid eyes on the love of his life for the first time.

Though to his utter misfortune, she’d been in the company of another man, a guy with a boring looking face and boring brown hair that seemed to be talking at her instead of with her. Her cerulean eyes had been dimmed in boredom, only lighting up when she caught him staring at her. Lighting up with indignation, but it was still something.

He’d helped them pick out a new necklace for her, which defeated the whole purpose of a gift if she was there, and then they left. Nothing spectacular, but it’d changed his life forever. Because three weeks later, she’d come back, no one in tow, and given him her number.

And now here they were.

And now here he was, on Valentine’s day, about to propose.

He was nervous as hell, even if he was pretty sure she’d say yes. She’d say yes, right?

It was too late to turn back though, as he waited in their apartment living room, the whole space decked out in soft candlelight, the record player playing old school jazz in the corner. They’d danced to that record the first night in this apartment, and now it was forever associated with their love.

Aelin was running a bit late, and she’d told him she would be. Her work at the law firm she was interning at had been slammed recently, and as the intern, she was getting all the late nights and the extra paperwork, leaving her exhausted every time she crawled into bed. It’d left them little time to do anything else at night, but Rowan wasn’t upset; her career was more important, he wanted her to do whatever she felt like she needed to do to reach her goals.

But he couldn’t deny he was a little excited for what this night might entail.

The lock on the front door turned, dragging Rowan out of his thoughts, and he turned his head toward it from his spot on the couch. Aelin appeared through the space when it opened, her work heels in her hand and her blazer all askew, but she didn’t hesitate before darting toward the bedroom.

“Aelin?” He asked, just as their bedroom door closed behind her.

“One moment!” She called through the wood, and he sighed through his nose, his hand drifting to the box in his pocket. Like the romantic he was, he’d gone back to that same department store to buy the ring, and though he’d ended up spending hours searching, he was pretty sure he’d found the perfect one.

It took her about five minutes to finish whatever she was doing, and Rowan had almost psyched himself out of asking when she reentered the living room.

And his heart stopped.

His beautiful, stunning, perfect girlfriend was decked out in lingerie. It was a deep red, and lacy, and utterly see through, and he could feel his blood rushing south as he stared at her, mouth ajar like an idiot.

Aelin just smirked, stalking toward him until she was standing between his legs, her hands resting loosely on his shoulders. He was so much taller than her he barely had to look up to look her in the eyes, eyes that were lit up with humor and mischief and something else he couldn’t quite identify.

“Happy Valentine’s day,” she murmured, looking pleased at his reaction. “Is that a ring box in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

He had to admit, it took him a second to process what she’d said, halfway in the process of replying before he snapped his mouth shut, his face falling in disappointment. “You knew?”

She grinned at him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek in apology. “Aedion can’t keep a secret to save his life.”

Rowan groaned in exasperation, his head falling back against the couch.

“Don’t feel bad, baby,” Aelin consoled, “it looks beautiful in here. And is that our song?” She tilted her head, smiling softly.

“Yes,” he confirmed, “I started setting everything up before you told me you were going to be late, so it’s been set up for hours,” he chuckled, sighing at the same time. “Now it’s ruined.”

“No, it’s not,” Aelin insisted, moving to straddle him. “I even got dressed up for the occasion, I’m expecting a proposal.”

He raised an eyebrow as his hands went to her waist, the corner of his lip lifting in amusement. “You wanted to wear lingerie for your proposal?”

“Pretty dresses are boring,” she explained, tilting her head so her golden locks spilled over her shoulder. “I wanted to make an impact.”

“Oh,” he said in mock understanding, “I see.” He smiled at her, and she smiled back, his heart filling with love. A moment passed, and then she was moving one of her hands to reach toward his pocket. “Hey now,” Rowan said, grabbing her hand. “What are you doing?”

“I want to see my ring,” she explained, trying with her other hand, which he blocked as well.

“I haven’t even asked you yet,” he said, laughing. She just scoffed.

“So ask me, you buzzard,” she said, relenting her attack on his pocket.

“If you insist,” he teased, and she nodded.

“I do.”

He shook his head, chuckling, before taking a deep breath, composing himself for the speech he’d prepared.

“Aelin Galathynius,” he started, his eyes immediately starting to water. “From the first day we met, I’ve felt like I was swept up in a tornado: no longer in control of my destiny, but finally able to feel what it was to fly.” He caught her discreetly sniffing. “I love every single thing about you. From the way you tease me, to the way you smile, the way you would do anything for the people you care about, and even the way you’d wear lingerie to be proposed to.” That earned him a wet chuckle.

“These last three years we’ve spent together have been the best three years of my life,” he continued, his hand reaching toward the ring box. “And it’s made me realize one simple thing: I don’t ever want to go back to living without you.” He took another deep breath. “So, Aelin Galathynius, will you mar-”

“Yes,” she interrupted, stealing his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. “Of course I will, Rowan Whitethorn. I love you, you buzzard,” she said as she pulled back, smiling. “Now give me my godsdamned ring.”

Rowan laughed, pulling the box out of pockets and flipping open the lid. The sight drew a gasp from Aelin, and he couldn’t deny he was pleased with her reaction, especially when he saw the tear drip down her cheek as he grabbed it from the box, gently grabbing her hand and sliding it on the proper finger.

They both admired the sight, her golden skin accentuated by the bright gold of the ring, topped with two diamonds circling a bright red ruby. The diamonds were classic, but his Fireheart was more unique than that, so when he’d seen this ring, the ruby flickering like a flame, he just had to get it.

It seemed he’d made a good choice.

Aelin sniffed and leaned forward to rest her forehead against his, their breaths mingling.

“I love you, Rowan Whitethorn,” she murmured, “To whatever end.”

“And I love you, Aelin Galathynius,” he said, the words more precious than the jewels adorning her hand. “To whatever end.”

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[theauthorinblue]

“It was a very simple agreement,” the boss explained. “They take care of me, and I take care of them. And I made good on it. Most of my employees were salaried, and did supplemental work, like IT or janitorial work. They were there because they needed money and they didn’t care where it came from. They didn’t care if I gave them a desk job as long as they got what they needed. So I used their work to minimize what those actually doing the crime needed to do, which is why we stole only the one set of gold armbands from the museum, rather than the entire fossil section. And we set up a buyer for later that night, so it wasn’t long in our hands. And we ran background checks on everyone who bought from us, so we wouldn’t hand evidence to an undercover cop. And then, what do you know, twelve million for four hundred people who needed to make rent. And at that rate, we did one extra a year where the money went to building and equipment management, health insurance, and making sure our trainings were up to date.” She smiled. “You didn’t get more money if you changed positions, some people just wanted specific jobs in and out of our company. We had parties for anyone who got a legal job somewhere else, with promises that if they needed it, they would always have a position here.”

She then looked up at the heroes. “Dismantle all of that. Now you have four hundred people who still need money, can’t get a job that will pay what they need, if at all due to their associations with crime, and still don’t care where they get their money from. They need to take care of their families, but since they’re on their own, they don’t have the manpower or extensive checking they used when I took care of them. So they do a lot more for a lot less.”

One of the newer heroes, Stardust, stepped back from the bars and looked to their teammates, hands running over one another over their chest. Their words were barely a whisper. “Like Mom.”

Draco, the second-most senior member turned to look at them. “What?”

Stardust shrank, keeping their head down, but their gaze flickered between the floor and Draco. “My— my mom was one of the people caught in the big bust. When I was younger, she used to work all the time, and we nearly lost our apartment because I needed medical care…”

The boss rose from her seat, stepping slowly towards the bars. In a soft voice, she asked “You’re Lillian’s child, aren’t you?”

Solar Flare, the team leader, stepped between her and Stardust, arm thrown protectively out. “Don’t answer that.”

Stardust was crying now, though they were trying not to show it. Their mask soaked up their tears, darkening the pale yellow fabric around their eyes.

“She was the head of Human Resources, and one of the people I worked closely with on a regular basis,” the boss said softly. “She is one of very few I would consider a friend. Had it not been for me, her job would not have been considered illegal. …I’m sorry.”

Hydra, usually talkative, spoke her first words since they got to the cell. “How do we fix this?”

The boss hung her head. “I don’t know. My organization took almost a decade to form into a competent unit, and starting from the ground up will take too long. Unless you can give everyone a living wage, fully-covered or at least reasonably-priced healthcare, guaranteed money for housing, and a safety net if they fall, all within the week, I’m not sure you’ll be able to help them all.”

“If we get you out of here, will you be able to reorganize it?” Draco asked.

“Woah, hey!” Solar Flare cried. “She’s the enemy here, don’t forget that!”

The boss clenched her fists, but kept her voice steady. “I did what I needed to do to keep those who worked with me safe and alive. No more, and no less. I am not the conniving monster you seem to believe I am. I kept my people safe, alive, and able to live without fear of dying from something preventable. And if that makes me your enemy, I wouldn’t want to be anything else.”

Draco held Solar Flare’s wrists. “Hey, maybe you should go outside and cool off.”

Solar Flare muttered something, but nodded and walked off.

Draco watched her go, then turned back to the boss, waiting for an answer.

The boss just shook her head. “Not likely. Now that I’m a known criminal, I’ll be watched for the rest of my life on both sides of this. The other bosses don’t get caught. I’ll lose a lot of my business if I retain any at all.”

“There are other criminal organisations?”

“Not here. In other cities nearby. They have a grip on the city itself, more than I ever did, so I didn’t have any openings.”

“What if we let you out, and fund you doing something legal?” Hydra asked.

“Like what? What’s easy to get into and can make enough money to pay well for everyone who needs it?”

————————————————————

The store— part grocery store, part art and handicrafts shop, part restaurant— was opened six months later, when the superheroes finally convinced a judge to let the boss go to handle it. Beforehand, she’d confidentially identified nearly five hundred people who needed stipends to get by until they could work there, and the superhero team, through a middleman volunteering from the local library, paid them those stipends as the store was constructed.

Opening day was filled with newscasters offering microphones and questions about everything. The boss handled them in the same grace as she handled high-profile robberies, explaining the ins and outs of the business, from how not being able to fire people allowed for other options of conflict resolution to potential solutions to violent employees while pointing out the extreme unlikeliness of such an event to explaining her base pay for all employees being $30/hour is barely above the local minimum living wage and weaving through all the accusations of socialism that immediately followed, interviews closing with a reminder that they were still hiring, and would be happy to have more people on their team.

Customer-wise, opening day was a huge success. The heroes, crime back down again, came to take pictures with the store and its visitors. Stardust stayed from open to close, only taking breaks to eat and use the bathroom, and take one 45-minute cooldown break the boss required them to take. The customers loved the menu, the crafts, the grocery selections, and they managed to make enough to cover everyone’s wages for the day within the first hour, with the rest of the day being no less successful. Cleanup was made easy with Stardust’s light creations and the boss’s animated objects, and the store was ready to go by the time the last employee took off their name tag and left the building.

The store continued to be so popular that by the next year they were already intending on building a second location. The store forced higher pay for other businesses as well, and would-be profits went into grants to allow small businesses to start and handle themselves, infrastructure care to better the city as a whole, and training programs for citizens with jobs that were becoming obsolete or didn’t have the necessary requirements to make it to the job they wanted. Soon enough, other cities nearby began to copy them too, and crime in those cities dropped dramatically, just as it had done in its first city. The boss helped where she could at these stores too, offering her business insight to anyone who would have her, and working alongside the new store to let it open and run while still hiring. As the idea caught on, new issues popped up in some stores, and a handful of them had to close soon after they started. But almost every one of them was successful, and most of those continued to change the job market around them.

The boss’s retirement made headlines when it finally did happen. It was a simple party, a sheet cake and ice cream sandwiches for everybody that came, exactly as she wanted. The now-retired heroes came as well, though no longer dressed in costume. She thanked them profusely in her retirement speech, for supporting and letting her start this incredible business all the years ago. It was a dream she’d been trying to achieve for years earlier, she was incredibly happy to have finally achieved it.

You are a supervillain who commands most of the criminal underground, after being placed behind bars the heroes come to you for answers when crime shoots up by 60 percent.